


The Sweetest Thing

by uistic



Series: break my fall [1]
Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Begging, Breathplay, Cheating, Dominance, Hair-pulling, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Multi, Reconciliation, Seth Is Sorry, Submission, Trust Issues, Under-negotiated Kink, eventually, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-07
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-08-20 02:49:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8233487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uistic/pseuds/uistic
Summary: "Please don't hang up.”The words come out rushed, all in one breath, as if Seth's scared he won’t get to finish the sentence otherwise. It’s a near thing. Roman’s fingers tighten around the phone and his first instinct is to end the call. But there’s a desperation in Seth’s voice that stops him. "You've got thirty seconds," Roman says.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Set at some nebulous time after Seth became World Heavyweight Champion but before his injury.

"Please don't hang up.”

The words come out rushed, all in one breath, as if Seth's scared he won’t get to finish the sentence otherwise. It’s a near thing. Roman’s fingers tighten around the phone and his first instinct is to end the call. But there’s a desperation in Seth’s voice that stops him. 

"You've got thirty seconds," Roman says. 

There is a stunned silence on the other end. 

"Twenty-five." 

Seth takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry I hurt you. I'm sorry for all the things I've been saying. I need to see you, to talk. Thirty minutes. Please. Public, private, I don’t care. Please." 

He's not used to pleading anymore, and it shows. There's a reluctant pause before every 'please', like he needs to steel himself to say it. Roman wonders how much pride Seth had to swallow to make this call, and then wonders if it makes him a bad person that he wouldn't mind watching Seth choke down some more. 

"After everything you've done, you still expect us to listen?"  
   
"Not expecting. I'm..." Seth takes another deep breath. Roman can easily imagine him, eyes closed, a pinched line between his brows.  
”Begging.  _Please_ , Rome." 

Roman exhales softly and shifts on the bed. He probably shouldn't find this as hot as he does. He wishes Dean were here. He’d get such a kick out of this, hearing Seth begging for their time and attention.

"Why are you calling me? Why not Dean?" 

Seth gives a little laugh, tinged with frustration. "Because Dean doesn't take calls from unknown numbers. And neither of you would take a call from me." 

And that’s, yeah. That makes sense. Roman doesn’t have the luxury of making himself unreachable. He always picks up on the off-chance that it's a call about his daughter. 

"I'll think about it.”

He's not actually going to think about it. He's smarter than that. But he doesn't want to shut this down, not before he's told Dean about it. Leaving Seth hanging with a false hope for a couple days, well, that’s just added bonus. 

"Thank you," Seth breathes, and it's so fucking sincere that Roman wishes he could see his eyes. "Really. I-" 

"And Seth?" He interrupts as if Seth hadn't spoken. "Don't ever call me again." 

It feels good to hang up, almost as good as it did to hear Seth choke on his new found humility. He wonders what Seth's angle is. Win his trust to fuck him over, maybe. Or drive a wedge between him and Dean. Divide and conquer. Whatever it is, he's going to have to try a lot harder than a few reluctant sorrys and please, no matter how much Roman enjoys the sound of them. 

He doesn't for one second imagine that Seth might actually mean it. And Seth doesn't call again. A week passes, then two, and Seth glances at them sometimes in catering or gorilla, but he makes no move to approach them. 

"Either he's respecting your decision," Dean says one Friday night in a fast food joint somewhere in the outskirts of Baltimore, as he crams a handful of fries into his mouth. His tone conveys exactly how likely he finds that. "Or he's regretting his call and making like it never happened." 

Roman glances over at the door, which is ridiculous. Seth wouldn't be caught dead in a place like this. "We could get in touch. See how serious he was." 

"What, call his bluff?" 

"Yeah." Roman takes a sip of his coke, watching the play of emotions on Dean’s face and trying to not look too carefully at his own motivations. "It wouldn't mean anything. I mean, we both know he's playing us. But what if we were to-" 

"-play him back?" Dean fiddles with the plastic lid of his cup. "My therapist would say it's a lousy idea to engage." 

"You don’t have a therapist." 

Dean grins. "Then I guess there's nothing holding us back, is there?" 

Three days later Dean pulls in a favor to get into Seth's locker room unnoticed and slip a key card into his bag. It’s a gamble, but it’s not like Seth couldn't charm his way to a key card down at the reception if he really wanted to. There's enough people who still believe that Seth only plays a douchebag on TV for him to be able to sweet talk his way into almost anything.

It's close to ten p.m. when they hear the card inserted into the lock. Dean’s lying on his stomach on one of the beds, boots still on. He’s halfway through a tattered paperback he found at the arena, and at the sound of the door he puts the book aside and gets up, all in a fluid motion. Seth cracks the door open like he's not sure what's waiting on the other side. When he sees them he breathes out, shoulders relaxing a fraction.

He's dressed in black skinny jeans and a t-shirt of some emo band Roman's sure he'd hate, hair pulled back in a sloppy bun. It’s strange to see him out of his suit, and Roman wonders if he's dressed down to go slumming or if this is what he still wears on his evenings off. He closes the door and looks between the two of them, hesitant. 

Roman turns off the tv and sits up straight. ”Thirty minutes.”

Seth swallows. He takes two steps forward, then stops. "I fucked up bad." 

Dean snorts. 

Seth's lips twitch just a little, perhaps in recognition of the understatement. "I'm sorry." His gaze flickers from Dean to Roman and back again. "I hurt you, both of you. I ended it in the worst way possible and then I spent months adding insult to injury and I'm really, really sorry." 

It's a rehearsed speech, but then Roman supposes they did give him a couple of weeks to practice.

”Okay." Dean leans against the edge of the table and crosses his arms over his chest. "So you're sorry. What do we care?" 

"I miss you.” Seth’s voice is quiet, but the room is quieter. He hooks his thumbs in the pockets of his jeans, making a failed attempt at a smile. ”I miss you every fucking day. I thought-- It doesn't matter what I thought. If you want nothing to do with me, that's fair. But I am sorry, and I’m willing to do anything you say to prove it."  

It’s a dangerous thing to offer, anything, and Seth really should know better. But then again, Seth's the master of suicide dives and bad decisions. Dean grins, all teeth. There’s a look in his eyes that would scare Roman shitless if he didn’t know Dean better than he knows himself by now. Dean's kindness and generosity doesn't extend to the people who betrayed him, hurt him, and for all intents and purposes left him for dead. Roman’s shouldn't either, but he has a harder time hanging on to that rage with Seth standing before them, vulnerable and close enough to touch.

It's an effort for Roman to remember that this isn’t real. That Seth has an angle, and that whatever he’s selling is worth less than the crumbled receipts in his wallet. Still, there’s a touch of heat in the pit of his stomach as he watches Dean approach Seth and work loose a strand of his hair. It's the streak that used to be blonde, Roman realizes as the it falls to line Seth’s face. The frayed ends still have a touch of the lighter color. Dean runs his knuckles along Seth’s cheek, and Seth makes a little noise that could mean anything.

"What's the matter? Daddy not touching you right?"

Seth shivers and swallows thickly.  

”That’s not a rhetorical question. Any time you feel like answering is good." 

Seth glances at Roman. ”I didn’t come here for-" 

”I don’t give a shit what you came here for,” Dean says. ”You wanted to apologize? Guess what, I don’t believe you. Roman doesn’t believe you. We’ve seen what a lying piece of crap you are. And, hell. Maybe you’re sorry and maybe you’re not, but either way, that doesn’t exactly change things, does it?”  
   
Seth raises his eyebrows. ”Why am I here then?" 

Dean grins, tongue lolling. ”We’ve talked about it and we figure, hell, maybe you do mean it. Maybe there’s some part of your black, shriveled excuse for a soul that’s actually capable of feeling remorse. Stranger things have happened, right? So we’re gonna give you a chance. You’re coming clean. Right here, right now. We want it all, everything you’ve ever kept from us, everything you’ve ever worried about us finding out. All the fucked up things you’ve done. All the real reasons why you’re crawling back now, rather than, say, six months or even a year ago." 

”Fair enough.” Seth looks between them. "Where do I start?"  

”Why don’t you sit down?” Dean’s tone is dangerously bright and cheery. It’s an order, not an offer, and Seth is smart enough to know it. There is no obvious place to sit: the beds are too intimate and the only chair in the room covered in sweaty gear and wet towels. Seth casts about like a man who knows he’s being walked into a trap. Dean catches his gaze and looks meaningfully to the floor at his feet. 

The disbelief on Seth’s face is almost comical. His jaws clench, lips pressed into a thin line. Roman always feels weirdly voyeuristic watching them balance the knife edge between love and hate, rivalry and brotherhood, fucking and fighting, give and take. 

”Get down,” Dean says. ”Or get out.” 

Slowly, reluctantly, Seth sinks to his knees, wrists crossed at the small of his back. It’s a graceful move and it looks practiced, for all that his cheeks are burning red.

The sight of it hits Roman like a punch to the gut. Seth’s knelt for them before, back when they were still lovers, but not like this. It was mostly an accidental thing or a means to an end, not this deliberate submission. Roman didn’t know he was into it and now, staring at the slope of Seth’s shoulders, the shapes and lines of his toned arms, the small tattoo on the inside of his left wrist, he can’t believe he never knew. Blood thrums in his ears as he struggles to not give himself away. 

”Let’s start with something simple.” Dean sounds unaffected, verging on bored, as if he’s got pretty men kneeling at his feet every day of the week. "Why now?" 

”I already said-" 

Dean grabs Seth's hair and yanks his head back. ”Why are you sorry now?" 

Seth grimaces, eyes watering. ”I think I’m being replaced." 

”By…?" 

”God, I don’t know. One of Hunter’s bright-eyed NXT kids, I guess.”  

That sounds about as likely as the sun suddenly rising in the west. For all that Seth pretty much stole the World Heavyweight Championship right out of Roman’s hands, and wouldn’t have had the Money in the Bank-contract to cash in if it hadn’t been for Kane, he’s been a good champ, for a certain value of good. Seth may have been acting like a spoiled brat, but Roman can’t imagine that Hunter has any real reason to complain. Seth’s an investment that paid off, and it makes no sense to throw that away any time soon.

"You think that’s gonna help your case?” Dean says. "That we’re your back-up plan in case daddy kicks you out?"

”I think you’d like me lying even less.”

”Why’d you do it?” Roman blurts out. It’s the wrong question, he knows it as soon as he opens his mouth.

Seth looks weary and pitying at the same time. ”You know why. The title. Hunter offered me the World Heavyweight Championship on a silver platter."

Roman had hoped for some extenuating circumstances, something to cast the whole sordid affair in a different light, wash away the sting of betrayal. He’d expected at least an attempt to whitewash it, and feels vaguely disappointed that Seth won't even try. If he wants their forgiveness, he’s doing a piss-poor job of getting there. 

Roman can’t help but think that maybe he didn’t come to be forgiven. Maybe he came looking for a final rejection, something that will help him move on, once and for all. There's even a possibility that Hunter put him up to this - not to fuck with them, but to fuck with Seth. Punishment, maybe. A way to put him in his place, and then be able to tell him  _we're all you've got_  and  _they wouldn't take you back even when you crawled_.  

”You never needed the Authority for that, you stupid asshole,” Dean growls. He lets go off Seth’s hair and smacks the top of his head. ”What the fuck did Trips offer you that you couldn’t go out and get for yourself?" 

Seth ducks his head, staring at the ash-colored carpet. ”You were fighting. All the time. I couldn't sleep, towards the end. We'd fuck, and you'd fall asleep, and I'd get up again and spend most of the night just... thinking, I guess. Trying to fix us. I'd watch you sleep and I'd start thinking that maybe the problem was me. That if I weren't there..." Seth shrugs. He won’t meet their eyes. "Hunter agreed. He said that I was holding you back. That we were bigger than the Shield, and that you'd be making names for yourselves if you didn't feel like you had to stay for me.”

It's a twisted version of a story Roman knows so well it might as well be written in his bones. He remembers the fights, of course. But he remembers other things more, like the way Seth looked when he slept, lips slightly parted, tension and worry washed away. Kisses that tasted of vodka and gin. Seth's unshakable faith in them, his refusal to even consider that something might someday prove too much, too hard.

"And you believed him.” It makes Roman feel sick. "It never occurred to you to talk to us?"

"It wasn’t just the one conversation. We spoke for months." 

It says something about Seth that he thinks that makes it better, not worse. How many of Seth’s grand, sweeping promises were made hollow by the fact that he already had one foot out the door? How many times had he kissed them and wrapped them in honeyed words about the future, all the while planning his double-cross along with their success? 

"Look, you don’t get it." Seth looks up, pleading. He sounds like he thinks they’ll understand if he can just convince them to listen. "He offered me everything. A title run. Exposure. Mentoring. Backup, in and out of the ring. A significant raise. Comfortable travel and accommodations, access to private locker rooms, anything I could possibly want or need. I wanted to be the best. Not one of the best. I wanted...." Seth trails off, hesitating. ”I wanted everything." 

"And you got it," Dean says, caustic. "So why the fuck are you here, acting like you regret it?” 

Seth looks straight at him. "Because I was wrong." 

The admission hangs there between them. Seth gives a mirthless smile and a one shouldered shrug. 

"Too little too late, huh?" 

Roman still has nightmares about Dean getting curbstomped through cinderblocks. Except in his dreams the ambulance takes him away, and he never comes back. There are other nightmares too, recurring ones, about chair shots and cold eyes and Dean, always Dean, being lost to him. Killed by Seth. Or gone off to join him. Too little too late is a generous way to put it.

And yet here they are. Roman doesn’t think he would have suggested this, if there wasn’t for the part of him that still holds out hope that somehow, someday, they will find a way to reconnect. The irony of it is that it always used to be Seth, doing the heavy emotional lifting, and Roman doesn’t know how to do it on his own, doesn’t even know where to start building bridges or healing wounds that have festered.

There is one question that has been nagging at him ever since the first time he saw Triple H clamp down his hand on Seth’s shoulder like a man staking a claim. He doesn’t want to know, but if he doesn’t ask he’ll always wonder, and wherever they go from here that question will churn inside of him like a slow-burning poison.

”Are you sleeping with Hunter?” 

Dean catches Roman’s eyes and shakes his head just a little. Roman doesn't know if it means  _I don't want to know_  or  _you don’t want to know _or maybe even _it doesn’t matter_ , but it does matter. Seth says nothing, but his silence speaks for itself.__

__”Did you cheat on us?”_ _

__After a tense silence, Seth nods._ _

__”More than once?"_ _

__"...yes."_ _

__Roman closes his eyes against the pain, and regrets it as his mind is flooded with images of Hunter and Seth together. After everything Seth’s done, it's amazing that this betrayal still hurts. It’s not even a surprise. As far as they know, Seth has cheated on everyone he’s ever had a relationship with, and it would be naive to think they’d be the exception. But Roman has never cheated, can’t even imagine the mindset you'd have to cultivate to be able to do something like that to someone you love. Not just once, but systematically and intentionally, for weeks or months at a time._ _

__"Why?" he demands._ _

__"Because it’s different." Seth sounds ashamed, and if Roman wasn't so sure he was faking it, it'd be easy to get suckered in, to believe. "You gave me one thing, and he gave me something else, and I wanted both."_ _

__There it is, plain and simple and ugly as fuck: They weren't enough for Seth back then, just like Hunter’s not enough for him now, and he'll never stop wrecking everything he touches in his search for more._ _

__"And Stephanie McMahon?" he asks, voice rough with fury. "What was she doing while you were fucking her husband? Or did you fuck her too? Who else, while you were at it? Orton? Kane? J &J?" _ _

__He means to hurt and it works like a charm. Seth flinches. His face becomes shuttered for a moment before he smirks, ugly and vicious._ _

__"So what if I did? You’re gonna call me a whore? Say I'm easy? Because as far as I recall, you didn't mind so much when it was the two of you I was fucking." He holds Roman's gaze, bites his lip and moans, fake through and through, a mockery of every real moan they've ever drawn from his lips. "Oh, _Rome_ ," he gasps, "oh, god, fuck me,  _please_ -" _ _

__Black hot rage sparks behind his eyes and he’s on his feet without thinking. He grabs Seth by the throat and hauls him up. Seth’s wide-eyed, white-knuckled panic feels good and sick and twisted all at the same time. Dean is there, hand on his arm, voice low and soothing, not trying to pull him back, just talking._ _

__”Hey, whoa, come on, easy. You wanna kill him, I’ll help you hide the body, no questions. But not here, all right? Not now. All right?”_ _

__Gradually Roman loosens his grip enough to let Seth breathe, and it’s not until then that he realizes that Seth’s not fighting back. Behind the fear there is something else, something Roman can’t quite place. He can feel Seth’s heartbeat against the palm of his hand, feel the shiver that runs through him when he rubs his thumb along Seth’s bearded jaw. ”You’re going to tell us exactly what Hunter does to you."_ _

__Seth makes a choked sound. ”Rome, c’mon. You don’t wanna-"_ _

__”Oh, we do. We do wanna." There's a heat in Dean's voice that isn't all fury as he steps up to press against Seth from behind. Roman wonders how Dean does that, takes something filthy and sordid and sad and turns it into something hot. Maybe the lines just aren't as sharp as he always thought._ _

__Seth's been their shared go to-fantasy for so long now, and it's not like they haven't gotten off to the thought of Seth being fucked by others. It’s just... to him, it was only ever just that. A fantasy. But even before Seth left them, Dean always seemed to get a real kick out of hearing about Seth's past experiences, from the softcore porn with Marek to the wild, drunken games with Jimmy Jacobs, anonymous sex in public places, glory holes and sexting people he, in retrospective, probably shouldn’t have trusted enough to sext._ _

__When Seth hesitates, Dean scoffs. ”What, you can suck his dick but you can’t talk about it?”_ _

__”He likes...” Roman feels Seth swallow. His eyes are darting nervously, like he’s unable to meet their gaze as he talks. "Control. Breathplay, sometimes. He likes it when I beg and when I’m grateful.”_ _

__Roman's mind is instantly flooded with a kaleidoscope of images of Seth being grateful. "And if we fuck you tonight," he says, voice hoarse, "will he be pissed?"_ _

__Dean gives an amused snort and bites Seth’s neck lightly, drawing a gasp from him. "Spite sex? We could do that."_ _

__"He's not-" Seth begins, shaky. "I mean, it’s-"_ _

__"-if you're about to say 'complicated' I'll punch you."_ _

__There’s something sharp in Seth’s eyes, something almost like a dare. "As long as I don't come and no one touches my dick, I can do whatever I want."_ _

__Roman tightens his grip around Seth’s throat. "You mean, whatever we want."_ _

__He can feel the way Seth’s pulse jumps against the palm of his hand, feel the hitch of his breath as he swallows. "Yes. Whatever you want."_ _

__And that - Roman didn’t think he’d be able to get more than half-hard tonight, not with all the anger and hurt feelings, but those words, in that tone just lights him up like a christmas tree and he knows he'll be jerking off to this moment for weeks._ _

___Breathplay_ , echoes in his head. _Control_. Roman can see, vividly, what Hunter gets out of this. Seth's end of the bargain remains more opaque, but there’s no denying he's getting something he wants. He lets go and shoves Seth backwards. _ _

__"Strip."_ _

__Roman has never pushed anyone around like this outside of the ring, and it’s disturbingly satisfying the way Seth’s pulling his t-shirt over his head almost before Roman’s done speaking. He glances at Dean. Their eyes meet and then they crash together, mouth against mouth, and Roman has no fucking clue what’s happening, don’t know how they went from talking about killing Seth to talking about fucking him, but it’s Dean and there’s no one in the world he trusts more._ _

__When they come up for air, Seth is naked and back on his knees, eyes locked on them, dark and hungry. Was this his plan? Is this what he came for? Submission’s a good look on him, and Roman has to fight the sudden urge to slap his face just to see how he’d take it, if it’d be different here, away from the crowds and with the promise of sex behind it. He doesn't recognize this side of himself, the part that gets off on the idea of hurting Seth. It scares him a little that he can’t tell how much of it is anger and wanting revenge and how much simply is._ _

__It’s silly to hesitate now, and Roman doesn’t want to think about Hunter, but what if this isn’t Seth’s idea? What if whatever thing he has with Hunter keeps him from backing down even when he wants to?_ _

__"Hey." Dean's voice makes him realize that he has been staring. "If you're not sure, we'll kick him out."_ _

__Seth ducks his head and it kills Roman that he can’t tell if he’s hiding relief or hurt or something else altogether. He doesn’t know how to put his concerns into words - he can’t tell Dean that he's worried about hurting the man who put his head through a pile of cinderblocks and then held a mockery of a wake for him, because what kind of fucked up priorities is that?_ _

__”Rome?”_ _

__”I don’t want Seth to feel forced,” he mutters, unable to look Dean in the eyes. It feels like a betrayal, because he shouldn’t care, but Dean’s gaze softens. He smiles and kisses Roman gently, and something tense and unhappy in him uncoils at the touch of his lips._ _

__"Let me?” Roman's not sure what he's agreeing to, but he nods and watches Dean crouch at Seth’s side, bringing up his face with a light touch to his chin._ _

__"Listen up, princess. We'll forgive you or we won’t. You letting us fuck you has no bearing on that. If we're doing this, it’s not because you’re feeling guilty or Hunter sent you or you’re wrapped up in some fucked up scheme or trying to get into our heads or any of that shady shit. It’s because you want it. All right?"_ _

__Seth's eyes flicker between the two of them, face unreadable. ”Yeah."_ _

__Both of them look to Roman. He clears his throat. "All right. Yeah."_ _

__”We're doing this?" Dean gives away no preference either way, just a calm, unshakable acceptance, like whatever Roman wants is perfectly fine._ _

__Roman nods and Dean waste no time in pulling Seth to his feet and shoving him forward. ”Let’s get on the bed. C’mon.”_ _

__Seth stumbles a little and at the foot of the bed he stops and glances back at Roman, as if Dean's word's not enough. Roman gets a mental image of a puppy asking permission to get up on the furniture. He doesn’t know how he ended up the ultimate authority here, but the way they both look to him for direction makes him lightheaded._ _

__"On your back," he says. "Hands at your sides. Dean, if his hands go anywhere at all, you choke him."_ _

__"I can do that.” Deans eyes are alight with glee, and it makes Roman feel a little better about how much he’s enjoying calling the shots. Dean rearranges the pillows, settles against the headboard and pats the mattress. "Here, sunshine. Let's see you give us some of that anything you promised."_ _

__He gets Seth settled on his shoulder and Seth lets out a shaky breath as Dean curls a hand around his throat. Seth stared at Roman in a way that turns his knees to water. He had almost forgotten what it feels like to be wanted by Seth, the way he zones in on you, elevates you, makes you the centre of his universe. It hits him like a fever as he crawls up the bed, planting a trail of kisses along Seth’s thighs and stopping inches away from his hard cock._ _

___Control_ , he thinks. Hunter's one twisted son of a bitch, but this, this he can have fun with.  _ _

__He breathes on Seth’s dick and Seth whines, hips jerking. Dean huffs out a laugh._ _

__"Poor baby." Roman does it again and is rewarded by a gasp and Seth's fingers, digging into the sheets. Dean strokes Seth's bared throat, half threat, half reassurance, and whispers something in Seth’s ear that makes him close his eyes and swallow._ _

__It feels like the answer to all of his prayers, Dean and Seth in the same bed at the same time, and he can’t get enough of it, the way they look together, and the way Seth moves under their touch, the sounds he makes. A drop of precum beads the tip of his cock, and it takes effort not to bend down and lick it off. Roman runs his hands over Seth’s body, plants a trail of kisses along the side of his ribs, down along his stomach, and with every touch it feels like he’s reclaiming something that had been stolen._ _

__”You want to come, Seth?" He runs his tongue along the inside of Seth’s thigh._ _

__Seth bites his lip, muscles flexing with the effort to stay put. ”I’m - I can’t - I’ve promised-"_ _

__”Oh, so _now_ your promises are worth something?" _ _

__Seth flinches. Roman feels a stab of guilt, but not enough for it to take the edge of either the simmering rage or the desire._ _

__”Don't worry," he says, and if it’s a little cruel, well, he feels entitled to a little cruelty where Seth's concerned. "We don't cheat. We wouldn't want to make a liar out of you, would we?"_ _

__That hurts, he can see it on Seth’s face, and it's satisfying and disturbing in equal measure. He runs his hands over Seth’s hips and captures skin between his teeth and bites hard enough to leave a mark. Seth gasps and bucks against him. There. Something to explain to Hunter. Something to remember them by in the morning._ _

__Dean is murmuring in Seth’s ear, a steady stream of filth, and Seth's breathing is shallow as he squirms for them, holding on to the sheets in a white-knuckled grip as if that's all that's keeping him from falling apart. He hears only fragments of Dean's stream-of-consciousness monologue, an intoxicating mixture of trash talk, filth, and vivid, explicit imagery._ _

__Roman runs his knuckles along the cut of Seth’s hips, following the line inwards, drawing circles close enough to his crotch that all Seth would have to do is shift just a fraction to make Roman’s fingers brush against his dick. Seth's got his head thrown back against Dean’s shoulder, eyes screwed shut, and his lips are moving as if in a soundless prayer. Every time Roman's hand slides close to his dick he freezes and holds his breath, breathing out in mingled disappointment and relief as the hand moves away._ _

__Roman leans down and breathes another hot breath on Seth’s dick, and Seth makes a low, keening sound, jerking upwards. Roman grabs his hips, pressing him down. ”No, baby. None of that. You want to be good for Hunter, don't you?"_ _

__Seth's face twists in a grimace. His legs are trembling with the effort of keeping them apart. He draws a breath, wets his lips, nods._ _

__"When was the last time you came?"_ _

__He's not sure Seth's even listening. He's trying to nuzzle Dean's shoulder and throat, trying to get something in his mouth, while Dean's staring at Roman with an open-mouthed hunger. Roman can’t get over how into this Dean is, can think of a million things they will have to try some other time, when Seth’s not in bed with them._ _

__”Pay attention, Seth," he says sharply, and sees Dean shiver at the tone. "How long since you came?"_ _

__"Six weeks three days," Seth manages._ _

__"But who's counting, right?" Dean says drily. To Roman’s surprise, Seth actually laughs. It's half-choked, but still laughter, and Roman rewards it with a kiss that Seth answers with all his pent up desperation._ _

__”Six weeks three days,” Roman repeats as he pulls back, caressing Seth’s face with the back of his hand. ”Aww, has someone been a naughty boy? Is he punishing you, Seth? Or did he just lose interest?"_ _

__Seth shakes his head. It’s not a no, exactly, and Roman lets his hand wander down again, towards his dick, relishing the way Seth’s hips jerk._ _

__”I was thinking that maybe, if you ask really, really nicely-"_ _

__"Pleasepleaseplease _please_ -" Seth breathes before he's even finished, all promises forgotten. It gives Roman a dark sense of satisfaction to know that Seth will cheat on Hunter with them, given enough motivation. He’s never seen Seth like this before and he feels drunk on it. He wants to point at Seth and tell Dean ”we did that, _us_ ”, and he wants to keep pushing, to see how long he can tease before Seth breaks completely. _ _

__Dean is breathing heavily, palming himself through his jeans with his free hand as Seth keeps begging, random syllables flowing into one another until Roman presses a finger over his lips._ _

__”Hush, baby. Just kidding. A promise is a promise, right?” He gives Seth a pitying smile. ”I guess that makes it one person in this room who’s not getting to come tonight.”_ _

__Seth’s eyes fly open. He stares at Roman, looking absolutely _betrayed_. ”You son of a-”_ _

__”None of that. You made your own bed, didn’t you? Now scoot. You got me all worked up, and since I can’t suck your cock, you can watch while I blow Dean instead.”_ _

__The hurt, confused, pissed off look on Seth’s face is worth all the vicious words he’s somehow keeping himself from spitting in Roman’s face. He looks about ready to break out the pitchforks and stage an open rebellion._ _

__”Dean. Why don’t you show Seth what we do with greedy little boys who only think of themselves?”_ _

__Seth shivers at the words, and when Dean’s hand tighten around his throat he moans in undisguised pleasure and goes still. He’s not fighting the grip, not even to try to breathe, and Roman recognizes the same expression that he saw on his face earlier and couldn’t identify. It’s not fear. It’s rapture._ _

__The seconds tick away while Roman watches Seth for any signs of distress. He counts to thirty, then forty, before Seth starts squirming. By fifty, he’s making frantic, pleading noises and visibly struggling to keep from tearing Dean’s hands away._ _

__Dean arches a questioning eyebrow._ _

__”Are you going to apologize?” Roman asks._ _

__Seth nods desperately. Dean presses a kiss to the top of his head and releases him, and Seth draws in a shuddering breath, very loud in the silence._ _

__”Good boy,” Dean murmurs, petting his hair. ”You did great.”_ _

__Seth reacts to the praise as if he’s never been praised before. With a smile that completely transforms his face he turns his head to press a reverent kiss against Dean’s knuckles._ _

__Roman allows him a few moments to catch his breath. When he looks up, his expression is practically serene. ”I _am_ sorry.” His voice is soft, earnest, and Roman gets the feeling it’s not sex he’s talking about anymore. _ _

__It feels like a slippery slope. Every time he’s got a firm grasp on his righteous anger and the many reasons why Seth can never be trusted, he gets smacked in the face with something like this, an apology spoken with enough sincerity that his conviction shatters and tumbles to the ground, and all he’s left with is a confusing mess of wants and needs, affection and love and the kind of foolish, self-destructive hope that will crush him utterly when Seth turns on them again._ _

__”I know,” he says, gruffer than intended. ”Now move.”_ _

__Slowly Seth’s loosens his fingers’ death grip on the sheets and trades places with Dean, who scoots down eagerly, fly already open. Roman pulls down his jeans and boxers in one go, watching his dick spring free, already hard. He throws the clothes aside and dips down, mouthing a line along the shaft before he wets his lips and swallows him down, all silky heat. Dean groans and throws his head back._ _

As far as blowjobs go, it’s nothing fancy. Roman’s too distracted by Seth’s presence, the weight of his gaze and his desperate envy, sharp enough to feel like a tangible thing between them. He looks like it’s killing him to see what he can’t have, and yet he can’t seem to turn his gaze away. His eyes follow every bob of Roman’s head, every swipe of his tongue, every twitch of Dean’s hips.  
   
Dean comes with a shudder and Roman keeps his dick in his mouth throughout but doesn’t swallow. While Dean still lies gasping, Roman sits up and beckons Seth over. Seth crawls to them, opening his mouth obediently when Roman taps it. He tilts Seth's head back, leans over, and lets the cooling semen dribble slowly into Seth's mouth.  

__Seth swallows without being asked. Roman kisses him, feeling Seth melt into the touch. He can taste Dean on Seth’s tongue, knows that Seth can taste Dean on him, and it’s the hottest thing he’s ever done._ _

__”I want to fuck you,” Roman says, and Seth’s whole face lights up in a way that can’t mean anything but yes._ _

__Dean huffs out a little laugh, one hand absently sliding up along the outside of Seth’s thigh. ”Bet you’ve wanted to hear that for a long time, huh?”_ _

__It’s been ages since Roman and Dean have bothered with condoms. They’re both clean, they’re pretty much exclusive, and it’s not like they make a habit of inviting other men into their bed. Luckily for all that Seth claims he didn’t come for this, he still came prepared. Roman strips down, distracted by Dean’s sloppy kisses, while Seth digs through his pile of clothes to find the condom in his back pocket._ _

__They trade places. Roman preps Seth while Dean kisses him breathless. He clutches Dean’s arms and gasps into his mouth as Roman slips a lubed finger into him. He’s slow and careful, but Seth is used to this and opens up easily. It doesn’t take long before he can add another finger, and then a a third. When he pulls out, Seth whimpers._ _

__”C’mon. I want you to ride me.”_ _

__Seth lets himself be manhandled into position. His lips are swollen and slick with spit, his hair’s a mess, and he’s never looked more radiant than when he straddles Roman’s thighs, Roman’s hands on his hips for support. Dean wraps himself around Seth from behind, more octopus than person, sucking hickeys into his neck and shoulders. Seth will be pissed about it tomorrow, but right now he looks like nothing could touch him. He smiles down at Roman, open and unguarded._ _

__”Can I?”_ _

__”Any time you want.”_ _

__He bites his lip, brow furrowed in concentration as he sinks down on Roman’s cock, agonizingly slowly at first, bracing against Roman’s shoulders. He stops to breathe several times, and just as Roman starts thinking he should have done a better job opening Seth up, Seth takes the rest in a smooth slide and the focused look is replaced by one of pure bliss._ _

__”Oh,” Seth says. And then, on an exhale: ”Yeah?”_ _

__Roman can’t talk, but he nods. Seth starts to move and it feels like… everything. Like coming home. He’d never say it out loud, because it’s sappy and stupid. Dean would laugh and Seth would run for the hills or file it away to use it against him later. But it echoes inside of him in rhythm with Seth’s movements, like a promise, like a song. Dean is kissing Seth’s cheek and neck, murmuring encouragement, and the sound of his voice washes over Roman. He slides his hands up Seth’s sides, and when he comes it feels a little bit like freedom and a little bit like selling his soul._ _

__They move to the other bed afterwards, the one that’s not stained with sweat and come. Seth’s still hard, and Dean just can’t help brushing against him. Their drowsy, content bickering is the best thing Roman’s heard in months. He gets up for a glass a water and when he returns he winds up rooted in place, drinking in the sight of the two of them together in his bed, quite emphatically not trying to kill one another. The surge of emotion is too big, too dangerous to name, so instead he climbs in on Dean’s other side and places a hand on his chest._ _

__"Hey," Dean says. "You all right?"_ _

__Roman nods, too choked up to speak. He presses a kiss to Dean's cheek and listens to his steady heartbeat until he dozes off. Much later, he blinks awake and finds Seth’s side of the bed empty. The alarm clock shows 03:17. Dean is one his back, snoring softly, one arm thrown over the edge of the bed, covering the narrow space where Seth ought to be._ _

__There’s sounds coming from behind him, and he turns. ”Seth?”_ _

__”Go back to sleep,” Seth says. He’s pulling on his jeans, fumbling a little with the belt. ”I’ve got some things to do.”_ _

__”It’s…” He’s interrupted by a jaw-cracking yawn, the kind that brings tears to his eyes. ”It’s not even four am.”_ _

__”Yeah.” Seth finds his t-shirt in the dark, pulls it on and pauses. His face is shrouded in shadows, but Roman thinks he’s looking at them. ”Sleep well, Rome.”_ _

__As he opens the door, light from the corridor spills into the room. Then he leaves, taking the light with him as he closes the door. Roman lies awake for a long time after that, listening to Dean’s snoring and trying not to think._ _


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s three weeks before they get face to face with Seth again and when they do, it's in the ring. They're in Providence for a Smackdown taping. Dean's getting ready for his match against Dolph Ziggler, and while Roman's not on the card, he's not leaving Dean without backup at any arena where the Authority calls the shots.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took a while. I had 6000 words written, then had to scrap them and start over to make it work. Also, that happy ending I'm promising in the tags? It's coming. It's just taking a little longer to get there than I thought.

It’s three weeks before they get face to face with Seth again and when they do, it's in the ring. They're in Providence for a Smackdown taping. Dean's getting ready for his match against Dolph Ziggler, and while Roman's not on the card, he's not leaving Dean without backup at any arena where the Authority calls the shots. Triple H and Stephanie McMahon doesn't seem to be around, but Roman doesn't delude himself that their absence makes it safer.

He's watching the opening segment on the monitor while Dean is warming up. Seth is out there, bragging about how he's never needed anyone to get to where he is today. It’s nothing Roman hasn't heard before, but he still marvels at Seth's ability to tell outrageous lies without an ounce of shame, sounding for all the world like he believes it. 

It begs the question of what else Seth has lied about while sounding perfectly sincere. Roman would like to believe that there’s a difference between the persona he adopts in the ring to perform for the crowd, and who he lets himself be in private, away from the cameras, but judging by the compact silence of the past couple of weeks he’d say that the difference is one more of degree than of kind. 

Seth's spiel brings out the Director of Operations, and for a man who sold out his brothers to get ahead, Seth sure seems determined to turn every alley he bought against him. Roman doesn’t think he's imagining the frightened elation on Seth’s face when Kane grabs him by the throat and lifts him off the ground for a choke slam. It’s a look he's seen before, intimately. But then Kane puts him down again, carefully, like Seth is a fragile, precious thing. His smile is all teeth. 

"You know what, Seth? I'm going to give you a chance to prove that you're as good as you say you are. Tonight, in the main event, you'll be facing Dean Ambrose and Roman Reigns in a two-on-one handicap match." 

The crowd goes nuts. Even on the small screen, Roman can see the color drain from Seth's face. 

"And," Kane adds, once the noise has died down somewhat. "J&J will be banned from ringside."

Dean whistles softly. ”Man. Kane really hates his guts, doesn’t he?" 

Roman doesn’t have time to respond before his phone goes off, presumably someone from the production calling to inform him about the change on the card.

On screen, Seth is bristling. "That’s bullshit! You can’t do that to me! I'm the World Heavyweight Champion! When Triple H gets back-"

Kane takes a step forward, towering over Seth. "Triple H is not here. I am. That makes me the Authority."

Seth splutters. Kane's smile grows. "Don't worry, Seth. I'll be right there. And if you change your mind - if you do need someone - all you have to do is ask." He wraps his arm around Seth’s shoulders in a way that looks more predatory than friendly. "After all, we're all just one big, happy family, aren't we?”

 

There are a lot of things Roman loves about wrestling. The crowds are right at the top of that list. On a good night their energy lifts the roof of the arena and fills him with the kind of strength that seems to make everything possible. Even when they boo him - and there are boos these days, growing stronger, because the fans are nothing if not fickle - it's still a thundering wave of noise that transforms the ring from steel beams and wood and canvas to something larger than life, something sacred.

Tonight is a good night. He feels it as soon as his music hits. The crowd is firmly on their side and hungry for it, eager to see the sellout champ brought low. His skin is buzzing, and in Dean's eyes he sees the same fierce joy. They're going to _kill_ it. 

As the reigning champion, Seth comes out last, title belt gaudy and glittering around his waist. He pauses at the top of the ramp, takes the title off and hoists it high over his head. There’s angry defiance in every line of his body, and Roman forgets, just for one moment, that this isn't a title match. That he's not even number one contender. Because that is his title that Seth stole, and he'll fucking destroy Seth if that's what it takes to get it back. He doesn't realize he's growling until Dean places a hand on his bicep. 

"Easy, big dog. We'll get him."

_We_. 

He grins, can't help it. It’s been too fucking long, that’s what it's been, too many months of fighting their battles separately when this, this is what they're made for. He wasn’t aware of how deeply he's missed Dean having his back in the ring as well as out, and isn’t that rich, Kane doing them a favor? Even if it’s mostly a side-effect of wanting to take Seth down a couple of notches.

It's rare to see Seth walk the ramp alone. It suits him. He must know he's going to get crushed, but there’s a swagger in his step. He doesn't enter the ring, he claims it, staring down Dean and Roman as if there’s no way this will end in anything but a triumphant victory for him. He brandishes the title again, drinking in the boos of the crowd like a standing ovation.

There’s something very right about being in the ring again, all three of them. Even though Seth's in the wrong corner. Even though the tactics he helped draw up for the Shield is what's going to be his fall tonight.

While Roman climbs out of the ring to let Dean start Seth turns his back on them to take off his shirt. If Roman's gaze lingers a little too long on the play of muscles in his shoulders, the tattoo along his spine, well, who will know? Watching Seth is pretty much his job description right now. Seth tosses the shirt aside and turns to face Dean, beckoning at him.  
   
"C'mon, Ambrose. We're gonna do this or not?"

Dean just grins lazily, but the moment the bell rings he explodes into motion, lunging forward. Seth rolls out of the ring, smirking at the booing crowd. Dean leans over the rope, yelling something that's swallowed up by the noise of the crowd. When the ref starts counting Roman realizes that that's Seth's plan: to lose via countout, never taking or landing a single blow. The crowd is livid at being cheated out of the most anticipated match of the evening. Roman is about to jump off the apron to throw Seth back in the ring when Kane gets to his feet. Seth doesn't even notice, too busy riling up the crowd, until Kane taps his shoulder. 

Seth turns. Kane leans down and says something. Roman can’t see Seth's face, but he sees him stiffen as the Director of Operations talks. The referee counts eight, and Seth hesitates. Kane points. At the nine count, Seth relents and dives back into the ring. He barely has a chance to get to his feet before Dean is on him in a hail of fists and fury, to the delight of the crowd. 

Roman has the feeling Kane was hoping for a squash match, to be able to really drive home the point that Seth is nothing without the support of the Authority. But Seth's too good a wrestler for that, and the three of them know one another too well, with counters to every move and sometimes, even, counters to their counters.

It’s a war of attrition, though, and Seth's the only one who can’t catch a break. He fights teeth and claw to stay out of their corner. His strategy seems to be to end it fast, before they get a chance to run him down. There is a scary moment when he flies off the top rope to land a devastating knee to Dean's temple, going for the pin. Dean kicks out at two, disoriented but able to make the tag, and Roman takes vicious pleasure in turning Seth inside out with a brutal clothesline. The roar of the crowd is better than sex.

Slowly, inexorably, the match turns in their favor. When Dean counters an attack with a knee to Seth's stomach and propels him into their corner, following up with a forearm smash that has Seth reeling against the turnbuckle, it feels like a done deal. Dean tags Roman in with a feral grin.

There is a part of Roman that almost feels sorry for Seth. Almost. But man, it feels good to use his own tactics against him, take advantage or the smooth teamwork that made the Shield unbeatable. 

Then Seth's elbow hits Roman's ribs hard enough that he staggers and Seth uses the ropes as leverage to plant his feet against Roman's chest and push. Seth takes advantage of that moment of separation to climb him like a koala, wrapping his arms tightly around Roman's neck in a sleeper hold. Seth's chest is heaving, arms slick with sweat, and Roman staggers, then sinks to one knee, weighed down by Seth’s body and weakened by the lack of air in his lungs. His blood is roaring, vision's tunneling, the ref's face blurring out of focus. The noise of the crowd and Dean’s shouts turn into a crackling static as the world narrows down to a tiny slice: Seth's ragged breaths, his own pounding heart, sweat burning in his eyes, and Seth's dry, chapped lips brushing against his cheek as he whispers-- wait, _what_? 

He staggers to his feet, wrests Seth's arms loose and throws him halfway across the ring. The air is cool and sharp and sweet as it fills his lungs. He blinks to clear his eyes. Seth climbs to his feet, and Roman takes him down with a spear.

He goes for the pin. The ref's hand hit the mat, once, twice, and Seth tenses, getting ready to kick out. Then he goes slack. The ref's hand slams the mat a third time, the bell rings, and like that it's over. Roman’s music hits, Dean is on him in a tackle-slash-hug, the referee raises their hands, and when he thinks to look back, Seth has already rolled out of the ring and is making his way up the ramp, belt pressed to his chest, accompanied by J&J.

Kane watches it all, thoughtful.

 

The locker room's all but deserted. No one's keen to linger on a Tuesday night, and it's a nice change of pace to get to wind down and shower in private. Jericho's the last to leave, slapping Roman's shoulder on his way out. 

"Good match, boys."

There's no love lost between them and Jericho most of the time, but for every tentative ally they have on the roster, Seth has made ten enemies.

Roman sinks down on the bench and starts to remove his shoes. "You think he's all right?"

"What, Seth?" Dean glances at him. "We didn't hit him that hard."

"No, I mean... In general?"

Dean huffs a laugh under his breath. He pulls off his t-shirt and drops it on the floor. "Not even a little. Man's as fucked up as they come." 

There's truth in that, of course. Roman’s not sure what he's looking for, but ever since Seth came to them and begged for forgiveness there's a gnawing feeling he can't quell. Like there's something he's missing. "You think he means it?"

Dean unwraps his taped hands, flexing his fingers. "Yeah. I think he's sorry. I just don’t think it means all that much, coming from him. Why?"

"He threw the match.” The more Roman thinks about it, the more it bugs him. "I mean, he would have lost anyway. But he could have kicked out and he didn't."

"Huh," Dean says, thoughtfully. Seth will manipulate and lie and cheat to win, he'll run from matches and hide behind the Authority, but Roman has never known Seth to just give in. "Maybe he feels guilty." 

"Yeah." Roman nods. It doesn't sit right with him, somehow. "Maybe."

 

Dean's headed to Vegas for the weekend, while Roman's going home to be with his family. They've been doing this for years, but Roman still feels guilty splitting up on the airport. It bugs him that Dean has no family to go home to, just an empty house in the desert. He used to take Seth, sometimes. But these days when Dean goes home, he goes alone. "Sure you don't want to come along, man? JoJo's always thrilled to se you."

"Are you kidding me? And miss out on a couple of nights in my own bed, early morning runs in the desert? Give the kid my best and tell her I'll see her soon." He pulls Roman into a tight hug. "Have a good flight. And, Rome? Don't worry about Seth, all right? He made his own bed."

Dean's right. Of course he is.

Roman still worries.

When they meet up again some days later, it’s in Cleveland for a house show. Dean’s in a good mood, loose and relaxed, and they spend most of their time before the show joking around.

Afterwards they ride together from Cleveland to Syracuse. Driver picks the music, and since Roman’s driving he settles for a classic rock channel at a low volume, just loud enough to give him something to focus on beyond the thoughts in his head. They're an hour out of Cleveland when Dean says, out of the blue: ”I still miss him. You know?"

Roman glances over, surprised. Dean is looking straight ahead, illuminated by the street lights and the occasional passing car. His fingers are drumming against his thighs.

”Thing is," he adds after a long silence, "I think he's missing us more. We’ve got each other and he's, hell. What does he have? A married man who fucks him on the side, hired bodyguards, and teammates who hate his guts and can't wait to trip him up."

"And a title."

Dean huffs out a laugh. "Well, yeah. Not like we're not gonna have that one too, sooner or later.”

Roman’s lips tug upward in a reluctant smile. A couple of miles pass in silence before Dean's phone buzzes. He pulls it out. "Speak of the devil."

"Is it Seth?"

Roman feels a twinge of jealousy. When Seth left, Roman was convinced that Dean would follow. Because Roman loved Seth, but Dean… Dean _loved_ him, with the kind of effervescent, all-encompassing passion that only Dean is capable of. He still thinks, sometimes, that if Seth had bothered to ask, Dean would have followed him to the end of the earth. It’s a terrifying thought. That the only reason he still has his brother is because for all his brilliance and all his mind games, Seth never thought to look Dean in the eye and ask. And now Seth is texting him. 

He shoves it all down, because Dean has earned his trust a thousand times over and he will not let his fucking insecurities damage the best thing he's ever had. "What's he saying?"

"He wants to see us." 

Roman's heartbeat picks up. "What, now?" 

"Any time we want, I guess." Dean looks at Roman. "Are you up for it?" 

That’s the question, isn't it? He thinks of the match they went, Seth going slack underneath him, letting himself be pinned. He thinks of Seth cracking, begging, the quiet, heartfelt _I am sorry_. He thinks of Seth in Dean's arms, shivering under his praise. And then, unbidden, his thoughts turn to the compact silence of the weeks that followed, the heartsick, aching knot in his gut as he understood that as much as he'd wanted it to, none of it had been real. 

"Are you?" he asks in lieu of giving an answer. 

Dean grins. "I might have a thing or two I wouldn't mind doing to him." 

The low rasp in his voice makes Roman shiver in the best of way, and he feels his dick stirring. "That sounds... yeah." 

Dean laughs, low and filthy. He places a hand on Roman's thigh, fingers brushing against the line of his dick. Roman’s breath catches in his throat. He tightens his grip around the wheel. 

"Or I could do _you_." Dean waggles his eyebrows suggestively. 

Before Roman met Dean, he had no idea a person could be cheesy and hot at the same time. He groans. "Hands off unless you want me to crash this car too." 

"Aww." Dean moves his hand a few inches down. "You never let me have any fun."  

"Once we get to Syracuse I'm going to let you fuck Seth silly. Isn't that fun?" 

Out of the corner of his eye he sees Dean's smile, easy and warm. "I don't know, man. It's all right, I guess. Not as fun as fucking you." 

Roman feels his lips twitch in response, heat pooling in the pit of his stomach. "Well, who says you can’t do both?" 

They split up at the hotel, Roman looking for parking and Dean going ahead to check them in. On his way from the parking lot his phone buzzes. It's JoJo, and he lingers in the lobby to take the call. When he gets up to the room some thirty minutes later Dean's not alone. Seth is there, kneeling at Dean's feet. He's in formal trousers and a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up, hair loose over his shoulders.  

Dean sees him and his face lights up. "Hey. We've been waiting for you." Seth makes a move as if to turn, to rise, and Dean stops him with a gesture. "Our baby brother's here to ask for a favor. Aren’t you?" Dean ruffles Seth's hair in the way that Seth hates outside of the ring.

Seth grimaces and nods mutely.

"What kind of favor?" Roman puts down the suitcase and kicks off his shoes, pleased that his voice is steady. "Is this as kinky as it looks?"

Dean grin and tugs at Seth's hair again. "C'mon, sunshine. Tell him what you told me."

"I want you to fuck me.”

"Tell him why," Dean prompts, like a child eager to get to the best part of the bedtime story.

Seth clenches his fists in his lap. "Because Hunter is fucking someone else tonight. And I want to hit him where it hurts."

There's pain in his voice, a bitterness Roman would never have expected to hear from him, at least not where Hunter's concerned. Roman takes off his leather jacket, hangs it over the back of a chair and crosses the floor. When Dean steps back to give Roman space, Roman catches his hand and pulls him in for a kiss. "Hey."

"Hey." Dean hugs his hand. "You all right?"

He is and he isn’t, but that’s not a conversation they need to have with Seth listening in. "You're sure about this?"

"What, I have to be sure now?" Dean says with a grin, and it's not really an answer except maybe it is.

Seth's eyes are still down, but Roman recognizes the stubborn set of his mouth, the I-will-do-this-if-it-kills-me-determination that is his greatest strength and biggest flaw all in one. Roman crouches down and snaps his fingers in front of his face. "Eyes on me."

It ignites a hot spark in his gut, the way Seth obeys.

"I don't give a fuck about Hunter. What's in it for us?"

Seth looks him right in the eyes. "Me. Any way you want."

It drives him crazy the way Seth says that, like he's offering them the best deal of their life. He wants Seth in any number of ways, but most of all he wants him happy, and eager, and coming to them for their sake and not to spite someone else.

"I'll make it worth your while," Seth says, when he hesitates. ”Look, I get it, you hate me. I’m not asking for-"

”Hate?” Roman echoes. ”You think what we did last time was about _hate_?” It clicks into place then, Seth’s silence, the way he’s been avoiding them, the way he wouldn’t even look at them until he was forced into the ring with them, and Roman feels nauseated and furious at the same time. ”You stupid son of a bitch."

Dean crouches down behind him, leaning his chin against his shoulder. ”Oh, princess. You sneak out before dawn, you don’t write, you don’t call. We start thinking you don’t like us anymore."

There’s something in his expression that Roman can’t quite decipher. "You thought _I_ -?"

Roman thinks of what he saw between Seth and Kane in the ring. Seth is expecting violence from them. Bruises, probably, harsh words and rough hands, but Roman doesn't want to play that game. Not tonight, when he's just come off the phone from talking to his daughter, not when Seth's coming to them already raw and hurting, not when the bad blood between them runs so deep its practically a river and he doesn't know what they're doing, what it means, or what Seth is reading into it. He needs to know if there’s anything between them that goes beyond violence and aggression, if there still is a way to connect with Seth that isn’t about revenge or spite or fury.

Roman leans in and kisses Seth. He keeps it gentle, almost chaste, and when Seth tries to deepen the kiss he pulls back. "Who calls the shots here?" 

Seth pauses, inches away from his face. ”You."

"That’s right." Roman leans in again. He keeps the kiss tender and careful, while Dean curls around him from behind, watching. When he pulls back, Seth looks wary.

Roman caresses Seth's cheek, and Seth turns his head to kiss the palm of his hand. It’s an intimate gesture, affectionate, and it gives Roman the courage he needs to spell it out. "I want you to be kind tonight. That's the only way we're doing this. You act like you care."

He feels Dean press a kiss against his neck. Seth looks between them, uncertain, like he's expecting a trap or a catch or a punchline.

"All right," he finally says. "If that's what you-- all right."

They're close enough that Roman can hear his heart thundering. Roman traces his lips with a fingertip. "Start with Dean, then. Make him feel good." 

There is a moment when it all seems to hang in the balance. Seth hesitates, and Roman can practically see the wheels in his head turning. "What-?"

"I want to see you do something nice for him. You figure it out."

After a long hesitation Seth rises and offers Dean a hand. It’s cautious, almost reluctant, like he’s still waiting for the other shoe to drop. He leads Dean to one of the beds, sits him down and pulls off his t-shirt. Dean allows it, curious and bemused.  

"Can you lie down?" 

Dean climbs up the bed and lies down on his back, arms crossed under his head, and Roman feels a surge of gratitude towards Dean for playing along. Seth climbs up on the bed, opens Dean's belt and works his jeans over his hips, leaving the boxers. Dean lifts his hips to help him. "All right, you've got me undressed. Now what?" 

"Turn over," Seth says.

Dean raises an eyebrow.

"Please?"

"Only because I want to see where the hell this is going," Dean says and flops down on his stomach.  

Seth straddles his back, digs his hands into Dean's shoulders, and proceeds to knead the tension out of his muscles. Dean gives a long toe-curling groan.

"Oh, god. Oh, fuck yeah. This is more like it. Don't you dare stop."

Seth relaxes, his movements becoming loser, more confident. ”What, ever?"

"Yup. You're in it for life, pa- ah! _Fuck_!" Dean twitches as Seth jabs the heel of his hand right at a sensitive spot below his shoulder blade.

"You're a little tense right here," Seth says sweetly. 

"Fucking scumbag,” Dean grumbles. "I'd smack you if I wasn’t so goddamned comfortable." 

Their bickering has no edge to it and Roman turns away to hide a smile. Seth's never been particularly generous, but he is a perfectionist, and Roman's not surprised when the back rub turns into a full body massage. Seth takes advantage of everything he knows about Dean's body, turning Dean’s griping into wordless sounds of pleasure. Roman settles down on the other bed and absently checks his e-mail and Twitter feed, occasionally glancing over to admire the play of muscles in Seth’s arms as he works. Some twenty minutes later he looks up from his phone at the sound of snoring, and sees Seth stare down at Dean, exasperated. 

"Oh, you _fucker_." Seth dips down to press a gentle kiss to the skin between Dean's shoulder blades before he moves away and pulls up the blanket to cover Dean’s sleeping form. There's a soft, wistful look on his face. 

”Hey." Roman puts away his phone. "Come here?" 

Seth joins him on the other bed, straddling his lap. Roman slips his hands under Seth's shirt. Seth’s runs his hands along Roman's bare arms, raising goosebumps in their wake. "Can I kiss you?" 

There's a dreamlike quality to the moment, Dean’s quiet snoring, the street lights spilling in through the half-closed curtains, illuminating the room, the heat and weight of Seth in his lap, his skin hot and smooth under Roman's hands, eyes soft, serene. 

"Yes," he says, and Seth leans down, hair curtaining their faces as their lips meet. It's slow and gentle, and every brush of his lips feels like a promise and an apology both. 

Roman caresses Seth's back, imagining he can feel the brushstrokes of the kanji characters tattooed along his spine: Integrity, Respect, Courage, Honor, Compassion, Honesty, Loyalty - all values Seth's betrayed, over and over. He can give himself this, one more night of pretense. What harm can it do? He pulls off Seth’s shirt and tosses it aside, then rolls them over so that Seth's under him, on his back. He takes Seth's wrists gently and places them above his head. Seth just watches him, eyes big and dark and trusting. 

"Stay," Roman says, and Seth nods. Roman's not sure if he means "stay like this" or "stay the night" or even "stay with us" and either way it doesn’t matter, because Seth's not theirs, and anything he promises now will mean nothing in the morning. 

He presses his lips to his collarbone, the hollow of his throat, moves down along his chest and stomach. Roman strokes the length of his cock through the jeans, and Seth moans and lifts his hips. Seth's head is thrown back, throat bared, and his hands are exactly where Roman placed them.

”You want me to touch you?” 

There’s a shaky little laugh, barely more than a breath. "Please."

Roman glances at Dean, still sleeping on the other bed. "You're gonna have to be real quiet, then."

He opens Seth's fly, pulls down the pants and briefs just enough to work his cock free. Seth's half-hard already, and when Roman licks his palm and wraps it around Seth’s erection he gasps, hips bucking.

It’s on his tongue to ask how long it's been, but he doesn’t want to think of Hunter’s hands anywhere near Seth tonight. He's already uncomfortably aware that whatever Seth's deal with Hunter is, they’re breaking it. Roman never thought he’d be the kind of guy to sleep with someone in a relationship, and for all that he's not the one cheating, he knows he'll feel like filth in the morning. That’s not enough to make him stop, though.

He swipes his thumb across the head Seth’s cock, spreading the glistening drop of precum around, then strokes him, slow and firm. Seth struggles to be still, be quiet, but he can’t hold back the little gasps and moans as he grinds himself against Roman’s palm, rocking upwards. 

”Shhh,” Roman says. ”It’s all right, babe, I’ve got you. Relax. You’re doing good." 

Seth closes his eyes as something like pain passes over his face, there and gone so fast that Roman would have missed it if he hadn’t been looking for it. He clenches and unclenches his fist, gripping at thin air, and his lips are moving, shaping a quiet please. It doesn’t take long for Seth to come all over his hand. 

Roman gets off the bed long enough to find a towel and clean them both up. Seth turns his head, watching him through heavy-lidded eyes, hands still obediently pinned above his head. Roman tucks his soft dick back in and pulls up the zipper, then lies down at Seth's side, letting Seth feel his erection against his hip. He places a hand on Seth's naked chest, fingers splayed, and kisses him softly. Seth moans into his mouth, arching against him as much as he can without moving his hands or lifting his shoulders from the mattress, staying down for a three count that stretches into perpetuity.  

"God, you're gorgeous.” Roman mouths at Seth's throat, feeling him shiver as the beard tickles his skin. He wants more than this, wants everything, wants to hold Seth so goddamn tight that he won’t ever be able to even think of leaving them again, but if this is as good as it gets, it’s still a great deal better than nothing. 

After a long time like that he gets up on his elbow and brushes a strand of hair back from Seth’s face.  ”What did Kane say to you? To get you back in the ring." 

Seth freezes, a deer-in-the-headlights expression on his face. He opens his mouth, clears his throat. ”Uh. Nothing?" 

Roman arches an eyebrow at him. 

”Just. Things. Threats. Nothing important." 

”Threats?”  

Seth swallows. ”It doesn’t matter, I swear." 

It’s on his lips to point out that Seth’s word holds very little weight with him these days, but it seems needlessly cruel. He asked for kindness. The least he can do is return the favor. He caresses Seth’s face again. 

Seth presses his lips against Roman’s finger, and when he doesn’t pull away, he takes the finger in his mouth, cheeks hollowing as he sucks it gently. The soft, wet pressure sends sparks right to his groin. Roman closes his eyes and grinds his erection against Seth’s hip. Seth’s breath catches. ”I want to taste you. Please?"

There is nothing Roman wants more than to accept, but they’ve already gone as far as he’s comfortable going without Dean, and there are some boundaries he won’t push. He glances towards the other bed where Dean is still sleeping, more at peace than Roman’s seen him in weeks.

”Next time.” He adds a kiss to take the sting out of the refusal. ”You can move now, if you want."

He’s barely finished the sentence before Seth wraps his arms around him, pulling him close. Seth buries his face in the crook of Roman’s neck, breathing in deeply, before he rolls them over so that he’s on top. He traces the line of Roman’s jaw with his fingertips, looking at him as if he’s something precious, something he can’t believe he’s allowed to touch. 

Roman rests his hands on Seth’s hips. ”Stay the night?” 

Seth’s fingers still. ”I can’t."

Like that, the peace in the room is shattered. Roman feels a chill as Seth gets off the bed and starts looking around for his things. He wants to be relaxed about this, but it’s like a bucket of cold water right in his face. He sits up, pushing his hair back. ”So that’s it?"

Seth finds his shirt and puts it on, fingers fumbling with the buttons. ”I don’t want to fight with you.”  

”Who’s fighting? I just think it’s pretty shitty of you to run off like this."

”I’m not running.” Seth takes a deep breath and looks Roman right in the eyes. ”Anything I said, I meant. I want this. I want you. But I can’t stay."

”Because of Hunter."

A sigh, a headshake, and the one phrase that pisses Roman off more than anything: ”It’s complicated.” 

”Uncomplicate it."

Seth huffs out a little laugh. ”You’d say that, wouldn’t you? Look, tell Dean- I don’t know, tell him whatever. Tell him-"

”-that you ditched us to run back to the married man who’s too busy with his other affairs to give a damn about you?” Roman knows even as he says it that it’s too far, but it’s satisfying to see the naked hurt on Seth’s face, to know that he struck a nerve.  

Seth raises his chin, jaws clenching. When he speaks his voice comes out cold like splintered ice. ”Yeah. You tell him that."

He doesn’t slam the door on his way out. He doesn’t have to. The click of the door still echoes in the silent room as Roman slumps back against the pillows with a groan. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guilt is an unpredictable, unreasonable thing. Compared to Seth's numerous betrayals, the little ones and the large, a few harsh words spoken in the heat of the moment should seem inconsequential. He said nothing that wasn't true, but Roman’s not convinced that a truth aimed to hurt is in any way better than a lie spoken for the same reason.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning - that happy ending is still at least one chapter away. This story just keeps getting longer and longer, but it shouldn't be much more now.

Roman falls asleep alone, but at some point during the night Dean joins him on the narrow bed, collapsing right on top of him, loose limbed and heavy. In the morning it’s the sunlight that wakes him, slanting in between the curtains. Dean is snoring softly on his arm, and Roman runs his fingers through his hair until he starts to stir.

"Morning." Dean's voice is gravelly with sleep. He jawns and rubs a hand across his face. ”Bastard fuck off again?"

"Morning." Roman presses a kiss to the top of his head. "Yeah, I messed up."

Guilt is an unpredictable, unreasonable thing. Compared to Seth's numerous betrayals, the little ones and the large, a few harsh words spoken in the heat of the moment should seem inconsequential. He said nothing that wasn't true, but Roman’s not convinced that a truth aimed to hurt is in any way better than a lie spoken for the same reason. It’s a relief to tell Dean what happened, and be - well, not forgiven, exactly, because to Dean there’s nothing to forgive. But to know that at least one of them is not disappointed by how the evening turned out.

"It’s Seth," Dean says, the unspoken _whaddaya gonna do_ clear in his voice. "No offense, Rome, but Seth's entirely capable of being an ass all on his own."

It’s true, of course. But if Seth gets to set the bar for how to treat one another, what hope do they have? Roman needs to believe they can be better or they might as well call the whole thing off right now.

With that in mind, he sends Seth a message before hitting the gym. He still has his number, saved as "Don't Answer". There are no old messages from Seth, he hasn't been in touch since before Roman changed phones more than a year ago. That had been the hardest part of getting a new phone. Letting go of years worth of _pizza?_ and _in the lobby_ and _if you don’t get down here we're leaving without you_ and _Dean says come fuck him _and the near nightly _I love you_ that he'd never expected to hear again. __

__**I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that.** _ _

__He types the message, deletes it, types it again, then stares at the screen before hitting send. For a long while he remains standing with the phone in hand, waiting for an answer, before he growls in frustration and shoves it back into the locker. At the gym he spends ninety minutes with the free weights, until his limbs are trembling and the exertion has driven all thought out of his head. When he returns from the shower he's got several new messages._ _

__**You're right. You shouldn't have.** _ _

__**but it’s not like I haven't said wprse.** _ _

**figure I had it coming.**

The time stamp shows a forty minute pause between the first three messages and the final two. 

**I'm sorry too.**

**For what it's worth.**

__Roman reads the last message over and over before he sighs and puts away the phone. Because that’s the thing, isn't it? He doesn't know what Seth's apologies are worth._ _

__Seth has already proven to be very good at avoiding them when he wants to be. They don't see him again until Raw a week later. They've just arrived at TD Garden in Boston when Dean's phone lights up with a message from Seth, asking if he can come by their room later._ _

__"What do you think his excuse will be this time?" Dean says. "He's already done apology-sex and getting back at Hunter-sex. He's had a week to come up with something new. He needs to get us out of his system? Aliens made him do it?"_ _

__"Aliens sound more like a Dean-excuse. And it's not like he's going to run out of things to apologize for any time soon."_ _

__"So what's a Rome-excuse? Doing it for daddy?"_ _

__"Ew, Dean."_ _

__Dean waggles his eyebrows. "Bangin' for the bloodline? Couplin' for the cousins?"_ _

__Roman smacks him in the chest with the back of his hand. "I swear to God, Dean. One more word out of your mouth and the only thing you'll be banging is your fist."_ _

__Dean cackles but mercifully drops the subject._ _

__They're uncharacteristically early and Roman ends up with time to kill before his match. There’s nothing worse for his focus than milling around in catering or in gorilla. He's scouted out his entrance already, through the crowd from the left side of the arena, and now he's just walking aimlessly, seeking out the quiet nooks and crannies where he can get into the right headspace._ _

__The last thing he wants to hear is Seth's voice, so of course that's exactly what happens._ _

__"C'mon, that’s ridiculous. Did you miss when I tried to put Ambrose away once and for all? Or when Reigns tried to fucking kill me with a cinderblock to my head? There is nothing between us."_ _

__Roman slows his steps, heart pounding. Figures that of all the out-of-the-way places Seth could choose for his little rendezvous, he'd have to choose this. It sounds like they're right around the corner, and Roman should walk on but--_ _

__"You'd be a lot more convincing if I didn't know you've been hanging around their hotel room at night," Kane says._ _

__Roman draws a breath and comes to a full stop. There's a warning in Kane’s voice, and Roman's not sure what's going on but he knows that he's not leaving Seth without backup in case it turns ugly because of them._ _

__"So?" Seth sounds more annoyed than surprised. "What are you implying?"_ _

__"I don't have to _imply_. When Triple H finds out-"_ _

__”Whoa, whoa, hold up. You think Hunter doesn’t _know_? You think, what, that I've been sneaking around with Reigns and Ambrose behind his back?” Seth gives an ugly little laugh. ”What do you think this is, Shield 2.0? I wouldn’t give those two a fucking minute of my time if it were up to me. Hunter knows, Kane. J &J knows. And, congrats, now you know too. I’m surprised you didn’t already, but I guess what Hunter and I are doing is none of your business."_ _

__Roman wishes he could see Seth's face, because someone’s being lied to and he’s not entirely certain that someone is Kane._ _

__"You're bluffing," Kane says._ _

__"Am I?” Seth sounds smug. "Go on, then. Call my bluff. Run to Hunter, tell him everything. I'm sure he'll be very grateful. Though he might want to know why you're only telling him now and not when you found out. Me sleeping with the enemy, that's a pretty big secret to be sitting on, don't you think? Might have to start questioning your motives." A note of steel creeps into Seth's voice. "Stay out of my business, Kane, and I'll stay out of yours. You really think that if push came to shove, Hunter would choose the questionable loyalty of a old, domesticated monster over the World Heavyweight Champion and the undisputed future of the company? You’re obsolete. Hell, maybe that's the reason he's not keeping you in the loop like he used to."_ _

__Realizing the conversation is drawing to an end, Roman pulls back, ducking into an open supply closet just in time to avoid being seen._ _

__It’s not the headspace he wanted to be in for the match, but it is what it is. Roman’s been in the business long enough to know that getting over and putting on a good match aren't necessarily synonymous. He manages one in Boston, but not the other, and it never feels good to walk away from a match so lackluster that the fans have forgotten about it before he's even cleared the ring. Dean's right there, in gorilla. He clasps Roman's shoulder. "You all right, man?"_ _

__Roman shakes his head but manages a smile. "We'll talk after. Knock him dead, all right?"_ _

__Dean's match against Bray Wyatt is better, but Roman has long suspected that Dean is physically incapable of putting on a bad match. Even when he’s losing his reckless tenacity makes it a thrill to watch. He never gives up, never gives in, never stops putting his body on the line. Roman watches from backstage with his heart in his throat the whole time, proud and terrified at the same time. It’s a feeling he’s come to know well over the years._ _

__’After’ doesn’t leave them much time to speak. Seth comes on next, flanked by Mercury and Noble, and he’s vicious on the mic, laying into them with a vitriol Roman hasn’t heard since he first turned on them. It’s a weird off-the-cuff promo that makes no sense, given that neither one of them are contenders for Seth’s title and unlikely to get put in a match against him now that Hunter is back and running the show. Seth’s not normally one to dwell on his losses if he can cut and run, and Roman can’t shake the feeling that he’s overcompensating. Like that backstage exchange with Kane rattled him more than he let on._ _

__Him and Dean are watching from backstage, and Dean is getting grimmer and grimmer with every word. Seth’s recycling some of the worst insults he’s ever thrown at them, and when he starts referencing Dean’s childhood, his mother and his stint in public housing, a terrible stillness comes over him. To someone who doesn’t know him, he might look calm, but Roman knows what it means when Dean’s entire body locks up, when the constant motion, the twitching and the shuffling and the bouncing on the balls of his feet just stop. He reaches out, but Dean flinches away._ _

__”He’s a fucking liar,” Roman says, letting his hand fall. "C’mon. Let’s shower and get the hell out of here.”_ _

__Dean's childhood is still a haze to Roman, a patchwork of hints and guesses around the general framework of an addicted mother, a string of abusive boyfriends, drugs and crime and neglect. Seth knows more, which is at least half of the reason Dean can't talk about it at all. It makes it particularly bad that Seth would go there just to score cheap points._ _

__It takes a couple of moment for Roman’s words to register and Dean to tear his gaze from the screen. ”Yeah. Let’s go."_ _

__In the locker room Dean paces, three steps in one direction, a sharp turn, and three steps back. His hands are balled into fists, his lips shaping soundless words like he’s arguing with himself. He’s not the only one. Roman’s fighting the need to reach out, to touch, to talk. Dean needs to sort himself out first, but no matter how many times they’ve done this, it never gets any easier to be banished to the sidelines, unable to help. He showers quickly and comes out to find Dean tearing off the tape with tight, angry movements, muttering to himself._ _

__"You coming back to the hotel?" Roman is careful to keep all expectation out of his voice._ _

__Dean shakes his head without looking at him. He slams the discarded tape into his bag together with the towel and zips it up. He shrugs into his leather jacket, shoulders the bag._ _

__Roman sits down to towel off his hair. "Want company?"_ _

__Again, Dean shakes his head. Roman can practically see the violent noise in his head, right there in the line of his jaws, the lowered gaze, the white-knuckled grip on around the straps of the bag. Dean takes a step towards the door, then stops, rocking on the balls of his feet. "It's not-- I can’t--"_ _

__His voice is rough, strained to the point of breaking, and there's no part of loving Dean that is as difficult as this: knowing when to push and when to give him space._ _

__"Dean." He doesn't look up, doesn't try to force the eye contact for all that it feels like he doesn't care that his brother's hurting. That's not how Dean will take it, though. "It's fine. I'll be there when you get back. Keep your phone on you, all right?"_ _

__Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Dean raise his head, gaze darting in his direction. Then he's gone, door falling shut behind him. Roman waits for the click of the door before he sighs and lets the towel fall._ _

__Most of the time, Roman enjoys a little time to himself. They have an unspoken agreement, him and Dean. Every other town or so one of them will take off for a bit, go for a walk or a run, hang out in the lobby, hit a bar or a gym or a coffee shop somewhere, and give the other a couple of hours of solitude. This is different, though. This is a callback to the weeks right after Seth defected, Dean disappearing for days at a time, too raw to be touched or reached or comforted._ _

__He hates this, the waiting. For Dean to come back, to let him see the extent of the damage done, for Seth to show or no show. He considers texting Seth, telling him to stay away, but he can't help but think that whatever Seth decides to do will tell them something about where he stands._ _

__When the knock on the door comes, he regrets not sending that text. Seth looks good and smells amazing. He's freshly showered, hair loose over his shoulders, dressed in black skinny jeans and a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up. It looks like he’s made an effort for them. Roman feels ratty in comparison, underdressed in his sweatpants and soft, threadbare t-shirt, hair pulled up in a messy bun._ _

__"Hey," Seth says softly, with a small smile._ _

__”Hey.” Roman steps aside to let Seth enter. "Dean's not here, as you see. He had some stuff to do.”_ _

__It's a blatant lie and Seth knows it. His smile falters as he takes in Roman's clothes, the weary look on his face. "Do you want me to go?"_ _

__The answer should probably be yes. Roman's not convinced that it's not. Still, he shrugs. "Up to you."_ _

__Seth watches him for a while before making up his mind. He sits down at the edge of the bed, cautiously, leaving the space next to him open in an invitation Roman chooses to ignore. He clears the chair and sits, arms crossed, enforcing distance between them._ _

__"How mad is he?” Seth asks, cutting right through all plausible deniability._ _

__"Pretty damn."_ _

__Seth winces. He tilts his head, tries that little, self-depreciating smile, the one that seems to say I fucked up and what can you do and shit happens all at the same time, and it’s infuriating, like he thinks he can cutesy his way out of this. "And you?"_ _

__”Pretty damn,” Roman repeats, without inflection._ _

__There is a tense, awkward silence, and Seth shifts. "Look, I'm so-"_ _

__"No." Roman cuts him off. "You don’t get to be an ass out there, be all contrite in here and think that it evens out. Maybe that works with Hunter but it's not gonna fly with us. You want us to believe you’re sorry, you stop adding to the list of things you have to be sorry for."_ _

__Seth looks surprised, and - Roman thinks - a little guilty. He can’t meet Roman’s gaze straight on, fingers pulling at the bed spread. "You know I didn't mean-"_ _

__"Honestly, Seth? We don't know shit. All we have to go on is your word, and you’re not exactly known for being trustworthy."_ _

__Seth closes his eyes for a moment. ”They know something’s up. I have to make it look real, make it look like I hate you, or-”_ _

__”Why?”_ _

__That brings Seth up short. He blinks at Roman, like he doesn’t understand the question. ”The Authority expects-"_ _

__”What about what we expect?” It’s a struggle to keep his voice down. "What's the endgame here, Seth? You’re not going to be able to keep us as your dirty little secret indefinitely. I get the feeling that you’re trying to get it both ways, but you can’t. It’s either or. So you'd better grow some goddamned backbone and decide what's more important to you. The Authority, or us.”_ _

__He didn’t mean to pull out the ultimatums, but now that he has, he finds that he doesn’t want to take it back. His heart is pounding as if he’s in the middle of a fight but if he is, he's the only one who's fighting. Seth won’t look him in the eye._ _

__"What if I can’t?" His voice is uncharacteristically small._ _

__"Then I guess someone else will make the choice for you."_ _

__Seth swallows hard. He raises his gaze finally, and Roman can’t figure out what's going through his head. This shouldn't be a tough decision. Either Seth regrets what he did, or he doesn’t. Either he wants in, or he's out._ _

__Unless he's in love with Hunter. Unless there’s more than ambition and glory and titles at stake._ _

__"If I leave the Authority..."_ _

__Roman raises his eyebrows, waiting. He'll be damned if he'll finish Seth's sentences for him._ _

__Seth hesitates, like the word's too strange to take in his mouth. ”.. you'll forgive me?"_ _

__"If you leave the Authority, there's a chance.”_ _

”That’s it? That’s all you’ve got for me? A _chance?_ " 

__”That’s hell of a lot more than you deserve,” Roman says harshly. He takes a deep breath and releases it, trying to calm down, to think around the anger. ”It’s a process. All right? We don’t know you anymore. We thought we did, and look where that got us. So if you want back in, it’s on you to prove that you mean it. I can tell you right now that staying with the Authority, hiding behind them, playing by their rules - that’s not gonna cut it.”_ _

__Seth stares at him. ”You don’t know what you’re asking."_ _

__”Don’t I?”_ _

__”You want me to throw away everything on the off-chance that-”_ _

__”No. I want you to show me what kind of a man you are.”_ _

__”Everyone in the locker room hates me,” Seth says. ”Without the Authority I’ll have— I’ll be—” He chokes down the last word, but it still echoes loudly in the silence between them._ _

__Nothing._ _

__Roman wonders how long Seth has believed that. If that’s another item on the long list of sins Hunter has to answer for, or if Seth’s always operated on the belief that his worth is determined entirely by the company he keeps, the people willing to invest in him._ _

__”It’s your choice,” Roman says gently. ”And you don’t have to make it tonight. But what you did today, what you said in the ring - that can never happen again. You hurt Dean again, and there will be no more second chances. You hear me?”_ _

__Seth presses his lips together and nods. He looks like he wants to say something, but Roman doesn’t want to hear it. He stands up, nods towards the door. ”You’d better go. We’ll talk to you later.”_ _

__”Rome, I-”_ _

__”No fucking apologies. Just— do better. All right?"_ _

__It’s very quiet after Seth leaves. Roman turns on the tv and tries to watch the game, but his attention keeps drifting. He's  
getting ready for bed when the phone buzzes._ _

**he there**

The short message is typical Dean, and Roman knows what he’s really asking. 

**I kicked him out. Come home, sweetheart.**

__It’s close to midnight when Dean slips in. Roman is dozing, but wakes up as Dean enters the bathroom and bright light spills out from the half-open door. He sits up and jawns broadly, rubbing a hand across his face in an attempt to wake himself as he listens to the sounds from the bathroom, the splashes and the sound of running water. No retching, no puking, no muttering. That’s a good sign._ _

__When Dean comes out and turns off the light Roman moves over and pulls back the sheets. "Hey. C'mere."_ _

__Dean strips off his t-shirt, socks and jeans on the way to bed, leaving a trail of discarded clothes in his wake. Roman opens his arms and is relieved when Dean enters the embrace easily. In the low light it's difficult to gauge the extent of the damage, but he runs his hands along Dean's sides, kissing his neck and shoulders as he looks for new marks and bruises._ _

__"'m all right," Dean murmurs, hiding his face against Roman's neck. "Just walked."_ _

__"Yeah?" Roman rests his hand on the back of Dean's head, rubbing the base of his neck with his thumb. There's no alcohol on his breath, no lingering cigarette smoke, and some of the fears Roman has been harboring evaporates as he breathes in the scent of cool night air, sweat and menthol that surrounds him. "I'm glad."_ _

__They kiss, slow and gentle, and that, too, is a relief, a reminder of the large stretch of timr that lies between then and now, the distance they've come. A year ago, this wouldn’t have happened. A year ago, Dean wouldn’t have been back for days._ _

__As they settle down to sleep Roman wraps his arms around Dean and presses a soft kiss to his shoulder. ”Love you,” he murmurs._ _

”Shut up and sleep, dickhead,” Dean grumbles, which is Dean for _love you too_ , and Roman buries his nose in his hair, breathing in the scent of him, feeling absurdly, ridiculously, overwhelmingly blessed. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the weeks go by they settle into a pattern of late night visits where they don't ask and Seth studiously doesn't tell. He takes what they offer, asks for nothing, and even nods at them when they cross paths backstage, even if he can't quite stop looking over his shoulder first.
> 
> It’s not the solid commitment Roman would like, but it's more than nothing and for a while, it works. Roman can’t pinpoint the moment when it changes. He just looks up one evening to see Dean flipping through the channels with one hand in Seth’s hair, while Seth's sprawled on his stomach on the bed, reading something on his phone. Roman is struck by how right it feels, Seth hanging out in their room like he belongs there. They watch ESPN, argue about football, and around midnight Seth takes off with an easy "see you", like it’s a forgone conclusion that he will.
> 
> Roman panics a little when he realizes that it's because it is.

Seth steps out of the shower with a towel slung low around his waist, skin still damp and radiating heat, and it takes all of Roman’s self-control to keep from crossing the distance between them and—

”You can’t be here,” Seth says, a trace of panic in his voice. He looks towards the exit as if expecting someone to burst in at any moment, and his eyes fall on Roman blocking the door, feet planted, arms folded across his chest.

”Sure we can.” Dean steps up and places a hand on Seth’s shoulder, shoving lightly. ”Go face the wall.”

Seth catches himself and grabs the towel to keep it from falling. ”The hell, Dean? This isn’t-

Dean pushes him again, harder this time. At the third shove Seth drops his towel to block him, and Dean allows his fist be caught, eyes flicking downwards. He grins. ”Nice.”

Even from the door, Roman can see the flush on Seth’s cheeks. ”Look, I know you're pissed, but I don’t have time for this. I’m expected outside in fifteen minutes. You’ve got to go before-”

There’s a running joke between him and Dean that the only way to get Seth to shut up is to either hit him or kiss him. Dean goes for the second, crushing their lips together. Seth flails a little, like he can’t decide whether to reciprocate or fight, and Dean takes advantage, pushing him up against the wall. By the time he breaks the kiss they're both breathing heavily, and Roman could swear the temperature in the room has gone up by several degrees.

"C'mon, Rollins." Dean mouths at Seth's throat, nips him just above the collarbone. "Don't be difficult. You know you owe me.”

Roman expects Seth to balk at that, but he shivers and bares his throat in wordless submission, hands resting on Dean’s arms. Eyes closed, he doesn't see the delighted grin that lights up Dean's face. "Turn around, princess. Hands against the wall."

It sends a familiar lick of heat up Roman's spine when Seth obeys, the muscles in his shoulders and arms at display as he rests his weight against the wall. Dean steps up close, pressing his clothed body against Seth’s naked skin, running his hands down his sides. Seth draws a deep breath.

"See? It's not so bad, giving me what I want," Dean says and nuzzles at Seth's neck. Roman can’t really see what his hands are doing, but he hears Seth's startled gasp.

Dean murmurs something Roman can’t hear, and god, he wishes he could see Seth's face. For the first time since they started fucking again, he thinks he can see what Dean gets out of letting him take charge. It's different, watching Seth's submission from the outside. He wishes they had more time, enough for Dean to really get creative, but by his estimate they've got less than seven minutes if they are to give Seth a chance to be on time. Their purpose here isn't actually to get Seth in trouble, just make him fear that they might.

Dean pushes a thigh between Seth's legs, one hand sliding up to his lips. Seth captures the fingers in his mouth, and Dean gasps, twisting a hand in Seth’s hair. It hits Roman that Dean might have a thing for that, for hair pulling, despite never having tried it with him. Watching them like this, it hits him that _he_ might have a thing for it too. 

"You like this, baby? You like showing Rome what a slut you can be?" Seth moans around Dean's fingers, and Roman reaches down to adjust himself and throws a glance at the phone at the same time. Dean has a knack for this, speaking honeyed filth that sounds like affection and abuse at the same time and drives Seth crazy. "Whose cock are you imagining, mine or his? I bet you want both, don't you? You'd look fucking pretty like that, both of us filling you up at the same time, making you scream like a little whore-"

Seth hands slips on the wall as he arches his back, grinding his ass back against Dean's crotch.

Dean pulls out his fingers and wipes them across Seth's face. "Tell me you're sorry."

"I'm sorry," Seth echoes, and it slips out so easy Roman thinks he probably doesn't know or care what he's apologizing for.

"Tell me you miss us."

"I miss you. God, Dean-"

"Tell me I'm better than you."

”You’re better than- _fuck_ ," Seth gasps as Dean does something with his hand, "than me, please, fuck, _please_."

”Damned right I am," Dean says smugly. "Can't believe it took you this long to admit it."

Seth huffs out a breathless laugh. It's amazing the way surrendering seems to allow him to drop all pride and all pretenses like it's something he's been longing to do. Dean kisses his neck, one hand reaching down to circle his dick.

Roman casts a reluctant glance on his phone. "Three minutes, Dean."

"Tell me something true," Dean says. "Something no one knows. Something you were planning to take to your grave."

Seth leans his forehead against his laced hands, shuddering as Dean's fingers teases his cock. "Fuck, Dean-"

"Don't make me ask twice."

Seth bites his lip, hips rocking.

"You want to come, Seth, you give me what I want."

Seth pounds his forehead against his laced hands. "C'mon, Dean, c'mon please-", and Roman wishes he could see exactly what Dean's doing to make Seth plead like that.

"Tick took, sunshine,"

Seth draws a ragged breath. "I can’t. Sleep. Alone. I can't. Not since. I. _Please_ ," he wails, and Dean takes mercy on him, making him come in just a few strokes. Seth's knees buckles and Dean eases him down to the floor, rubbing his arms soothingly and pressing kisses to his neck and shoulders. 

"There you go. Wasn't that hard, huh?"

Seth laughs. It’s his real laugh, not the grating in-ring cackle. "Bastard." 

Dean ruffles his hair and gets up. "Better hurry if you don't want to get late. See you around, Seth."

Roman considers it a testimony to his self-control that they make it all the way to the car before he grabs Dean by the front of his jacket and captures his mouth in a hungry kiss, trying to cover as much of his body at the same time. He finds Dean’s belt, fumbles with the buckle, but Dean stops him with a hand over his.

”Fuck, Rome. You can’t - wait, not here, c’mon-” He tugs at Roman’s hand. ”Let’s get to the hotel."

Roman reluctantly lets himself be dissuaded. A public fuck's probably not worth getting suspended over. Probably. He manages to tear his hands off Dean long enough to get the keys out of his pocket and shoves them at Dean’s chest. ”Drive.”

”Who died and left you in charge?” Dean says even as he climbs in. Roman takes the passenger seat, and as Dean pulls out of the garage, he spreads his legs and strokes his dick through the jeans. Dean glances at him and makes the kind of sound Roman normally spends half the night trying to coax out if him.

”Fuck, Rome. The hotel’s literally ten minutes away.”

”Better drive fast if you don't want me to get there without you,” Roman says and closes his eyes, sliding down in the seat as he imagines Dean pinning him to the bed and fucking him slowly into the mattress, one hand tangled in his hair.

Dean makes it to the hotel in five.

 

As the weeks go by they settle into a pattern of late night visits where they don't ask and Seth studiously doesn't tell. He takes what they offer, asks for nothing, and even nods at them when they cross paths backstage, even if he can't quite stop looking over his shoulder first.

It’s not the solid commitment Roman would like, but it's more than nothing and for a while, it works. Roman can’t pinpoint the moment when it changes. He just looks up one evening to see Dean flipping through the channels with one hand in Seth’s hair, while Seth's sprawled on his stomach on the bed, reading something on his phone. Roman is struck by how right it feels, Seth hanging out in their room like he belongs there. They watch ESPN, argue about football, and around midnight Seth takes off with an easy "see you", like it’s a forgone conclusion that he will.

Roman panics a little when he realizes that it's because it is. 

Just like that, the secrecy of their arrangement starts to chafe. It's not that he deludes himself that he'll ever be able to be open at work, but there's a world of difference between pretending to be friends and pretending to be enemies. One is exercising discretion, the other living a lie.

Seth seems a little too content with the status quo, and why shouldn't he be? Somehow, despite Roman's intentions, he's managed to get it all: Retain the championship and the support of Triple H and Stephanie McMahon, and still get to spend time with them as if none of that mattered.

"Are you all right with this?" he asks Dean late one night, after Seth has taken off. He doesn't like the idea of forgiveness just sort of happening, and he's not sure when it stopped feeling far-fetched and turned into a question of when rather than if. They're both in bed, lights off, but Roman can't sleep and judging from the sound of his breathing, neither can Dean.

Dean rolls over and looks at him. In the darkness, Roman can just barely make out his features. "Depends. With what?"

"Seth. Us. This."

"Yeah." Dean seems to reconsider. "I don't know. I mean... Would I rather he wasn't a backstabbing coward who couldn't make up his mind if his goddamned life depended on it?" Roman thinks he sees the shadow of a wry grin. "Sure. Might as well wish for the moon while I'm at it."

Roman reaches out and brushes his knuckles against Dean's cheek. "You deserve it."

"Well, if you _did_ wanna get me the moon, I'm not complaining." 

Dean's joking, but Roman's not. "I will," he says, only he’s not talking about the moon. "Just you wait."

There thing with Seth is that you can’t outplan him or trap him or trick him. He plays human chess like he was made for it, and Roman's a lot of things but he’s not clever, not like that, and unlike Seth he doesn't speak manipulation like a native tongue.

Back in the Shield, he was the muscle, and even now that straightforward approach is what he prefers. Let Seth weave his tangled webs, layers and layers of lies and deceit mixed with carefully weighted truths. If Seth's at his best when he's lying at least a little, Roman's strength has always been his honesty.

It's time to draw a line.

The timing couldn't have been worse, though. With Summerslam coming up the Authority closes ranks around Seth. He's never alone, won't - or can't -answer his phone, and if Mercury and Noble don't shadow him backstage Kane is right there, a scowling presence lurking behind him. The title seems to weigh heavy on Seth’s shoulder. He looks like he hasn't slept for days and he's back to dodging them in the hallways. Roman would be pissed if Seth didn't look so goddamned guilty every time their eyes meet across a crowded room.

**You all right?**

**Seth. Talk to me.**

**At least tell me you're still alive.**

Seth doesn't answer until a full two days later.

**I'm fine, just bsy, sorry. Miss you.**

Roman stares at the phone, a sinking feeling in his gut. He knows this. They've been here before. This is Seth in over his head and trying to handle everything on his own, like that isn't exactly how he screwed them over in the first place.

When he tells Dean, Dean just looks at him for the longest time. Then he nods, as if confirming something to himself. "You want to talk to him?"

"Yes," Roman says, frustrated. "But he won't pick up the phone, he's never alone, he-"

"I've got this." He silences Roman's half-formed protest with a kiss. "Trust me, Rome."

The next time they run into Seth he's got J&J trailing in his steps like two faithful dogs - and there's a joke to be made there, but it's so obvious that Roman's sure Seth has already heard every variation of it a dozen times over.

"Hey, Rollins!" Dean calls, turning the heads of the few wrestlers and crew members still milling about after the show. 

Seth slows his steps and turns around reluctantly. "What do you want, Ambrose?"

Dean grins and ambles over and Roman follows, curious to see this play out. "Change of plans. You're riding with us tonight."

"What?” Seth says, incredulously. 

"You're. Riding. With. Us," Dean repeats, with exaggerated slowness.

”Ambrose, what the _hell_ —” Seth begins. Then his expression falters and he just looks tired. Like he can’t remember for whom he’s putting on an act or why. ”I can’t." 

"I'm sorry. Did it sound like I gave you a choice?"

Mercury and Noble bristle at that, like two terriers poised to bite, and Roman steps up to stand at Dean’s shoulder.

Seth motions for his security to stay back. "This is bullshit, Dean. What are you gonna do, drag me to your goddamned car?"

"You think I wouldn't?"

He absolutely would, and Roman would have his back every step of the way. Seth knows it.

”Boss." Noble places a light hand on Seth’s arm. ”You don't have to-"

Seth shrugs him off. ”Let’s go find Hunter. I need to tell him there’s been a change of plans.”

With Triple H back and in charge, Seth's got an easier time of it than he did when Kane called the shots. Tonight he walked out to the ring with the rest of the Authority, gloated a little, did his best for business-spiel, and then just stood and nodded while Stephanie McMahon and Hunter rambled on. Easy money. Roman’s beloved by no one in management and still has to work for his paycheck, so while Dean raids catering for anything left over they can comfortably eat in the car, he heads back to the locker room to shower and change.

He’s not prepared for Jamie Noble to corner him on his way there. "Reigns. We've got to talk."

Noble is literally half of Roman's size, weighs about as much as a feather, and has eaten more than his share of superman punches and spears in Seth’s place, but he still gets up in Roman's face - well, chest, rather - without fear.

”We really don’t.” Roman pushes him aside without stopping, and adds, over his shoulder: "I'm not in the habit of talking to the Authority." 

His steps are long enough that Noble has to jog to catch up. He grabs Roman's wrist. "What about talking to Seth's friends?"

Roman stops and turns, looking down at the hand on his wrist and then back at Noble, eyebrows raised. He shakes free. "Friends? That what you are? Funny. I don’t remember friendship coming with a paycheck."

"Then maybe you're doing it wrong," Noble says, dry as dust, and - was that a joke?

"Fine," Roman says gruffly and nods towards the locker room. "You can talk while I change.”

He walks in without a backward glance and sits down on the bench to unlace his shoes.

Noble follows and closes the door behind him. ”We know you've been seeing Seth."

"He told you?"

”Nah. Seth's not... he doesn't trust easy. But watching him, that's our job. Seth doesn't always make the best choices, so we keep an eye out. See that he makes it home safely.”

Noble leans back against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, eyes on the floor to give Roman some semblance of privacy as he strips. Not that Roman needs it. He was a football player before he became a wrestler, and locker room nudity stopped bothering him before he was old enough to start thinking it should. He pulls of his boots and socks and opens the straps of his tactical vest.

"Look," Noble says. "We care about Seth. Are we alone in that?”

Roman doesn't answer. If this is a trap, it's a clumsy one, and he's quickly running out of patience with protecting Seth from the consequences of his own actions. He shrugs out of the vest and opens the fly of his trousers.

"Let me put it like this," Noble says. "Is this about revenge? Because if you’re leading Seth on, dangling redemption over his head to watch him jump -- well, I’m here to tell you that Seth’s not easy pickings and he’s not alone. And I know guys like you measure a man’s worth by the size of his fists and the pack of his punch, but me and Joey, we have ways. And if you hurt Seth, we _will_ make you pay.”

Roman blinks at him, stunned. The threat would probably be more effective if Roman couldn't pick Noble up and use him as a toothpick.

"That's..."

Noble turns to leave but pauses with one hand on the door handle. "You're not the worst choice Seth's ever made. He's happier with you around. Don't ruin it." With that ringing endorsement he takes his leave, closing the door behind him.

When Roman gets down to the car Dean and Seth are already there. The tension between them is so taut that Roman feels it clear across the garage. Seth's hunched over by railing, hood pulled over his head, while Dean’s sitting on the trunk of the car, feet resting on the bumper, smoking a cigarette like he didn't already quit that shit a dozen times over. 

"The hell, Dean?" Dean raises his head and Roman tosses the keys at him. They hit him square in the chest and out of the corner of his eye he sees _Seth_ flinch. "If you're gonna stink up the car, you can drive."

"If you hadn't taken forever in the shower, Rapunzel, I wouldn't have had to." Dean flips him off and puts out the cigarette under his heel. 

They load their bags into the trunk, and Roman doesn’t miss the way Seth hangs back, quiet fury in every line of his body. There used to be a time when he'd have fought Roman for riding shotgun, but now he heads for the back seat and looks surprised when Roman stops him.

"Up front, where I can keep an eye on you."

"Right," Seth snaps, "because there's so much I can do in the back of a moving car." He gets in the front and slams the door hard enough that the sound echoes against the concrete walls of the garage.

Seth spends the first couple of miles in sullen silence, hood pulled up, arms crossed, staring grimly out through the side window while Roman and Dean talk around him. It's been a while since he's been subject to one of Seth's tantrums, and he doesn’t know whether to be more amused or annoyed. 

After a while, the rain starts falling, pattering against the wind shield. Dean turns up the heat, and Roman watches as Seth begins to shift in his seat. Finally he pulls his hood back, releasing his hair from the bun. As he reaches for the air conditioning Dean slaps his hand away.

"Uh-uh. Driver's choice."

Seth looks at him like he's lost his mind. "It's like a goddamned sauna in here."

"Not my fault you're dressed like an arctic explorer. If you’re too hot, take something off."

"How about you put something on?"

"That's not what it sounded like last time."

Seth huffs and turns away, seemingly determined to sweat it out rather than let Dean get one over on him. Roman rolls his eyes, and Dean catches his gaze in the mirror and grins.

It's eerily reminiscent of the old days and not entirely in a good way, and Roman wonders for a moment if Seth is worth it. He and Dean have built something solid in his absence, and if Seth wants back in he's going to have to carve out a new place for himself, one that isn't based on being the mastermind or the buffer between them. Back before, he never noticed how secretive Seth was, not until it all came crashing down. Now it seems to be his defining trait -shouldering the entire world and crumbling under the weight rather than ask for help. How do you build something healthy with a man like that?

"Hey, Rome," Dean says. "I can hear you thinking all the way from here. What's up?"

Roman looks at Seth. "I got a little visit from Noble in the locker room." Because he's watching for it, he sees Seth stiffen. 

Dean's eyes flick to the rearview mirror. "Yeah? What'd he want?"

"Threaten us, mostly. They don't like how we treat their _friend_."

"Well, to be fair, I don't think their _friend_ likes how we're treating him either."

Seth ignores him, turning over his shoulder to frown at Roman. "Jamie said that?" 

"Think his exact words were something like 'if you hurt Seth, we'll make you pay'." Roman shrugs. "To be honest, I just thought they were in it for the money. Didn't think they'd care."

"Yeah." Seth sounds dazed. "You and me both." He turns forward again, staring thoughtfully out through the window.

"Hand me a water?" Dean says after a few moments.

"Sure." Roman rifles through the bag with food and drinks that Dean loaded into the back seat and passes Dean a bottle. "Seth?"

"What? Yeah, please." Seth licks his chapped lips like he hadn't realized he was thirsty. Or like he had, but hadn't wanted to ask. When Seth reaches for the bottle his sleeve rides up, and Roman catches a glimpse of dark bruises around his wrist. "Thanks."

"What's that?" Roman asks, nodding. 

Seth pulls down the sleeve. "Nothing." It comes out quick enough that both of them know he's lying.

"What's what?" Dean asks, with a glance in the rearview mirror. 

"Seth's bruised."

"So? I'm a wrestler, I get bruises. Big deal." There is a weird, defensive tone in Seth’s voice and Roman and Dean trade a look.

"Seth." Dean's voice is perfectly calm. "Show me."

"Like hell." Seth twists open the cap and takes a swig of the water. "You know, I'm getting real fucking sick of you giving me orders."

Dean shrugs, easy as anything. "Suit yourself." He turns on the radio, and the chorus of _Sweet Home Alabama_ fills the car.

Seth gives him a weird look, surprised and suspicious at the same time, but Dean doesn't push. Turns out it's because he doesn't have to. After a couple of minutes he turns up the heat, and Seth stares at him, outraged.

"What?" Dean says, innocent as anything. "I'm chilly."

It's less than ten minutes before Seth is squirming in his seat, and after fifteen he curses under his breath and pulls off the hoodie. He's wearing an old Authority t-shirt, and under normal circumstances Roman might give him crap for it, but he’s distracted by the sight of the marks. It's not just the bruises circling his wrist, although they are the worst, deep purple but fading into yellow at the edges. It looks, to Roman's eyes, nothing like the kind of bruises you'd get from wrestling.

Dean glances over and whistles softly. "Jesus fuck, princess. At least tell me you broke someone's nose for that."

"I'm working on it," Seth says darkly. "Or I was. Until your little stunt tonight pretty much confirmed every accusation Kane's ever thrown in my face."

Roman opens his mouth, but Dean's faster. "Oh, Sethie. Revenge don't gotta be so complicated. Give him to us, we'll knock out his teeth and shove them so far down his throat he'll have to take his steaks up his ass just to chew them."

Seth wrinkles his nose. "That's disgusting. Also anatomically impossible."

"So's your face," Dean retorts cheerfully. "But I don’t see that stopping you."

Only Dean, Roman thinks. Only Dean could hope to drain some of the angry tension out of Seth's shoulders by insulting him. Seth snorts and shakes his head, but there's a reluctant smile tugging on the edge of his mouth.

"So what's with the radio silence?" Roman asks.

” _Kane_." Seth spits his name like a curse. "He knows about us, and he's been whispering to Hunter behind my back. I can't even glance at my phone without them wanting to know who I'm texting." He looks at Roman over his shoulder. "You're Jimmy Jacobs, by the way."

"Yeah? Then who's Jimmy?"

"BTDT."

Dean snorts and at Roman’s confused look, he clarifies: "Been there, done that. Crude."

"Well, it _is_ true," Seth says primly, making Dean laugh.

Seth grins at him, but sobers quickly and looks down at his hands. "I've spent three weeks trying to convince Hunter and Steph that they can trust me. Three weeks of jumping whenever they say frog. Three weeks of meetings and interviews and representation and team building and whatever fucking crap they've thrown at me to prove that I'm loyal, despite what Kane says."

Dean and Roman exchange a glance in the rearview mirror. 

"Well," Dean says after a beat. "Are you?"

Seth takes the words like a punch. He closes his eyes and sucks in a breath.

"No, Dean." His voice is sharp-edged. "I'm a worthless faithless piece of shit, you know that."

"If that's how you sell it, no wonder they don't trust you." Dean drums his fingers against the wheel. "Why, though? What's this obsession with being a good company man? Say you've got them convinced, what's the next step?"

"What makes you think there's a next-"

"Give me some fucking credit here. You _know_ they're looking to replace you. You _know_ they know you've been straying. You wear that damn title like a chain around your neck, you creep around looking like death warmed over, and now someone on your team has been whaling on you, and you want to tell me there's no fucking plan? No endgame? No strategies for the Architect, beyond making mommy and daddy happy?"

Seth looks exhausted, the shadows under his eyes more pronounced when the passing headlights illuminates his face. He turns his face up, blinking against the ceiling.

"I'm sorry." His voice is rough. "I'm a fucking mess."

Dean snorts and places a hand on his wrist, gently stroking the bruises with his thumb. "Preaching to the choir, babe."

Seth lets out a shaky sigh and on an impulse Roman leans forward and rubs his shoulder, and he feels Seth relax under the touch. "Yeah, there's a plan. But I've got to do this alone." He turns to look at them, first Dean, then Roman. "I know I've no right to ask for this, but- trust me?"

"Give me a deadline," Roman says. "I want to know when this will be over."

"Summerslam," Seth says without hesitation. "Give me until Summerslam. It'll be worth it. Please." He still looks pale and exhausted, but there's a familiar light in his eyes, a determination that Roman has missed. "I'll make you proud."

They roll into Tulsa some two hours later, and as they hoist their bags out of the car, Seth hesitates. "Could I… maybe stay with you tonight?”

Roman’s pretty damn sure he must have misheard, but if he has, Dean’s suffering from the exact same auditory hallucinations. "Isn't daddy gonna mind?"

" _Daddy_ ," Seth says bitterly, "is too busy to know. And if what you say about Jamie and Joey is true...?" He shoots Roman a hopeful look.

"All right," Roman says gruffly, like the thought doesn’t make him giddy with joy, because fuck if he’ll let Seth know he can still make or break his day with just a few words. "But if you hog all of the blankets we're kicking you out."

"And no dragging us up at six to do crossfit."

"That was one time," Seth protests.

"And I'm still traumatized, aren't I?" Dean bumps his shoulder. "C'mon. We're having a cheat day, you can pay for the pizza."


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That night Seth comes to them with his defenses already down, his happy relief an infectious, tangible thing. He shoves Roman up against the door and kisses him like a declaration of intent while Dean clears the queen sized bed with one quick sweep. 
> 
> Seth doesn't beg this time. Not for permission, nor forgiveness. Roman's missed him like this, pushy, demanding, certain of his welcome -- or maybe testing it, trying to see how far it'll extend. If they still want him when he's not on his knees, desperate to please.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait. I had to stare at the empty screen for a couple of weeks, write 8000+ really bad words, delete them all, and start over a couple of times before I could get to this point.

That night Seth comes to them with his defenses already down, his happy relief an infectious, tangible thing. He shoves Roman up against the door and kisses him like a declaration of intent while Dean clears the queen sized bed with one quick sweep. 

Seth doesn't beg this time. Not for permission, nor forgiveness. Roman's missed him like this, pushy, demanding, certain of his welcome -- or maybe testing it, trying to see how far it'll extend. If they still want him when he's not on his knees, desperate to please. 

If he closes his eyes or turns his head away from Seth’s faded blonde streak and the ugly bruises on his wrist, it's almost like the past year never happened. It's an endless feedback loop of lazy pleasure, and later he'll recall it as fragmented snapshots, Seth fucking into him, slow and sure, Dean quivering under their hands, mouth open, head laid back, coming hard with Seth's mouth on his dick, Roman's lips on his throat, all their hands tightly wrapped together. 

They need that night and that glow, because Seth slips out of their hotel room in the gray light of morning and takes on his public persona like the bold, unvarnished truth, dedicating himself to bringing the fractured Authority together with the zeal of a man who's seen the light. 

There is less talk of business, more talk of family and brotherhood, and as the Authority commemorates the anniversary of his betrayal with champagne and endless reruns of the chair shots on the titantron, Roman finds Summerslam unbearably far away. 

Roman gets a brief stint as number one contender, and he can't quite tell if it's a gift or a punishment and for whom. It's bullshit, feuding with Seth, because feuding with Seth is feuding with the Authority at large. It's underhanded tactics, cheating left and right, poisoned words dipped in honey and Hunter himself, crouching over Roman after a backstage beatdown with Dean conveniently evicted from the building, gloating about Seth crawling back to him, begging to be allowed into his bed. 

"He told me you tried to top him," Hunter just says, all smug malice. "Guess you just weren't what he needed, huh? But then you and Dean have never been able to give Seth what he craves." 

It sticks with him, those words, long after the bruises have faded. It's not so much that the cerebral assassin would say whatever necessary to get inside his head, that’s a given, but that Seth apparently crawled back to daddy and offered up details about their private moments the first thing he did? That stings, and as the days turn into weeks, it festers. 

He knows what Seth would say. Can practically hear it, the 'I had no choice, I had to convince him somehow', and isn’t that convenient for Seth how often the easiest route just happens to be the only one.

By mutual agreement, they maintain radio silence. It's hard. Harder than Roman thought it would be when he was still drunk on Seth’s lips and skin and private laughter, when it was just the three of them and he was certain. Now he's not certain of anything anymore, least of all Seth, who gleefully kicks Kane's already broken ankle and berates him, driving him away, who breaks John Cena's nose and exults in it, who looks at Triple H and Stephanie McMahon with naked adoration in his eyes. In comparison, Bray Wyatt's mind games come almost as a relief.

When Brock Lesnar takes out J&J, leaving Seth without support on his side, Roman almost calls. Several times his finger hovers over Seth's name in the contact list, but every time he hesitates until the screen goes dark. He did promise. 

Seth doesn't try to contact them once. He makes it look easy. It bothers Roman more than he cares to admit, watching Seth waste all their time on his pointless games when he could just walk away.

"Look," Dean says when Roman grumbles about it one time too many. "It's Seth. Either he wants the biggest audience he can get for his triple cross, and Summerslam is as big as it gets if he's not willing to wait for 'Mania. Or he's looking to wrangle one last, massive advantage out of the Authority before he's out in the cold." 

"Like what?" 

"Beats me. Another title, perhaps?" 

When the Authority announces a Winner Takes All-match at Summerslam between Seth and John Cena, with both the World Heavyweight and the US title at stake, it seems like Dean was right. And there is a certain irony there, Seth choosing another title over them while he's still trying to convince them that he's sorry about the last time. 

New York in August is hot and humid and reminiscent of home. Dean grumbles, preferring his heat Nevada dry, but he doesn’t mind licking the sweat from Roman's skin or fucking him slowly in the shower for hours. In return, Roman ties Dean to the bed with ribbons and knots he could break in a heartbeat and drags melting ice cubes all over his body, until he's trembling and gasping for release. It's good, and for a few hours leading up to Summerslam they don't think about Seth at all. 

When they get to Barclays Center, they have no time to worry about what Seth might or might not have planned. They have their own match against the Wyatts, and that’s not the kind of thing that you enter into with a shrug and a smile. Roman gets knocked out early and Dean ends up having to carry most of the match - and take most of the beating - by himself, before Roman can get back on his feet and on the apron to make the tag. 

It feels good to spear Bray Wyatt and even better to pin him. He can’t stop grinning, can’t keep his hands off Dean after the bell rings. It’s not like the Shield days when they were all over one another in the ring and out, and the last thing he wants is for Dean to catch some of his heat by association. But on moments like this, when his skin is buzzing and Dean's sweat-soaked and triumphant and sizzling with fight, he can no more will himself not to touch than he can will his heart to stop beating. 

They watch from backstage as Seth makes his entrance in a brand new outfit, white and gold, an inversion of his regular ring gear. It looks to Roman like a declaration of intent. Seth does nothing without thought and meaning. No one's expecting a fair fight, but in light of the new look Roman finds himself hoping.

It’s a great match, one that has the whole arena at their feet towards the end. Seth pulls out the kind of high flying stunts he hasn’t used in a long, long while, and when he hits Cena with the Attitude Adjustment Roman knows that win or lose, this will be the match that turns the tide, that brings their brother back home. Seth’s wrestling like he loves it again and that love shines through in his eyes, in the fluidity of his motions. Roman doesn’t remember getting to his feet, but there he is, arms thrown around Dean’s shoulders, whooping for the sheer joy of it, his littlest brother taking down John Cena _on his own_ , just like they always knew he could. There are people staring and Roman doesn’t care, not when he sees the light in Dean's eyes, his own pride reflected right back at him. 

At the screen Triple H and Stephanie have joined Seth at the top of the ramp. Seth's smile wobbles when Hunter pulls him in for for a rough hug, hand on the back of his neck. Hunter says something, but the microphones fail to pick up his words. Seth drops the titles to return the hug, eyes closed, lips shaped around a "thank you"-  

-and then Seth knees his mentor in the gut, locks his head between his thighs and pedigrees him against the steel ramp. The crowd screams. Stephanie's shocked expression makes something twist in Roman's gut, because he knows that feeling, and it turns out that he _wouldn’t_ actually wish it on his worst enemy after all. Seth staggers backwards as the "holy shit"-chants fill Barclays Center. The cameras zoom in on Seth's face as he grabs the titles and raises them over his head in a triumphant gesture, but there’s no triumph in his eyes. Only panic. 

By the time Roman and Dean makes their way to gorilla, Seth is already gone. He left the arena before Triple H even got to his feet, and since then, no one has seen or heard from him. His phone is turned off, he hasn't updated Twitter or Instagram or called Marek or Jimmy or his parents or anyone else Roman and Dean can think to check with. Not that any of them wouldn’t lie for Seth if he asked them to, but if he did - well, that's a can of worms Roman's not ready to open yet. 

For every hour of silence, Roman's uncertainty grows. It means something that Seth won't talk to them, and whatever it is, it's nothing good. Dean’s raided the minibar and is pacing their room, five steps, pivot, and five steps back. He's keyed up, too wired to sleep, and unable to stop talking about the look on Stephanie's face or the sound of Hunter's body hitting the ramp.  

"Hey." Roman hooks Dean by the waist of his jeans. "Come on. Sit down. You're making me dizzy." 

"Did you see-?" Dean allows himself to be hauled in, coming to stand between Roman's thighs. "Did you see the way he- holy fuck. And his- Shit, Rome. I know I said - but I wasn't, I didn't-" 

This is how Dean has talked all evening, sentences tumbling over one another and petering out, unfinished. There's a glow about him, something almost manic, and Roman's heart aches to see Dean this worked up about someone who isn't there, hasn't called, maybe won't.  

Roman pulls him closer with a hand at the back of his neck. "I saw.” When he kisses Dean, it feels like a question. He tries not to be a jealous ass, but the nagging doubts won't stay down. Just then, Dean's phone buzzes. Dean practically dives for it and Roman falls back on the bed with a groan, covering his face. 

"It's him." Dean's voice sounds odd. The phone keeps buzzing and Roman moves his arm to see Dean staring at it with a strange expression on his face. 

Roman sits up, weary. "Better see what he wants, then.” 

Dean nods but doesn’t move. He looks sick for a moment and it makes Roman want to punch Seth in the face. He sits up and plucks the phone out of Dean's hand, answering the call and putting it on speaker. 

”Hey." 

”I’m not going to-” Seth begins, and then stops. ”Rome?” 

”You’re not going to what?” He holds out his hand, and after a moment’s hesitation Dean joins him on the bed. He's stiff as a board, fists clenched tightly in his lap. 

”Where’s Dean?” 

”He’s right here. What, is this a private call?” 

There’s a long silence. ”Am I on speaker?” 

"Yup," Dean says, and leans against Roman. He's voice is almost back to normal, and Roman doubts Seth can tell the difference over the phone. "Good job out there, sunshine. Talk about burning bridges." 

Seth lets out a ragged breath. "I'm done." 

"Well, yeah, we saw-"

"I'm done jumping through hoops for you.” Seth’s voice is quiet but steady. "I betrayed you. It was premeditated and ugly as fuck. I kissed you and I thought of ways to take you down, I catalogued all your weaknesses to use against you. Everything you’ve ever accused me of, I did.” 

”Yes, Seth, thank you,” Dean says dryly. ”We remember. We were there.” 

”The point is- I did all that and there is no amount of apologizing or groveling will make it go away. So you’re going to have to decide if you can live with it. If we do this you can’t keep holding it against me. Either you forgive me or you don’t. I can’t be with you if I’m always walking around on egg shells, waiting for the other foot to drop.” He draws a breath as if to continue but then falls abruptly silent. 

Dean and Roman exchange a look. Dean snorts. ”How long did you rehearse that speech?” 

There’s silence from Seth’s end and Dean shifts, rolling his eyes. ”Listen, dumbass. I forgave you ages ago. You really think you’re that irresistible, that I’d spend my time fucking some asshole I hate when I have Mr Too Hot To Be Real right here in bed with me?" He pats Roman's shoulder, as if to illustrate the point. "I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but the only one who’s been making things difficult is you.” 

Seth makes a cut-off noise, and without seeing his face, Roman can’t tell if it's relief or surprise or affront. "I thought-" 

”Doesn’t mean I’m not going to call you on your shit.” 

This time Seth’s silent for so long that Roman starts wondering if he’s still there. "Thank you," he finally says, voice small. 

In the silence that follows Roman knows that it's his turn to speak, but it’s like the last couple of hours has rendered him mute. He always thought it'd be Dean, not him, who'd have a hard time forgiving. He's aware of Dean watching him, Seth waiting, and he can't help but think of Triple H's gloating face, Seth's easy lies, and the way he's always put ambition over loyalty and love. "Where are you?" 

"Rome-" 

"No. I'm not having this conversation on the phone." 

Dean leans against his shoulder in a quiet show of support and Roman appreciates it. He doesn't know why he’s so angry, except Seth has kept them waiting on him only to come back demanding instant forgiveness, all or nothing, and yes, that pisses him off. Seth hesitates a little too long before he rattles off an adress and a room number. 

After they hang up Dean bumps his shoulder lightly. "I'm with you. You know that, right? If you can't forgive him, well, fuck his traitorous ass." 

Roman huffs out a breath. It meant to be a laugh, but there's not enough force behind it. "You love him." 

"So?" Dean looks at him like he's being willfully obtuse. "It's love, not a fucking compulsion. I still get a choice, don't I?" 

 

The address Seth gave them leads to a small, rundown hotel crammed in between an auto repair shop and a tiny storefront, with a sign so nondescript that Roman and Dean almost walks past it twice. The night portier barely looks up when they enter, busy playing some game on his phone. In the hallway the sickly sweet scent of pot lingers, together with something that could be mold. It's reminiscent of their early Shield days, back before they made enough to splurge on nicer hotels and bigger rooms. Roman wonders if that is why Seth chose this, or if he's been living on Triple H's dime for so long that he's lost track of how much he's actually good for on his own. Roman doesn’t know the figures, but he's doing well for himself and that's probably nothing compared to the pay bump that comes with being the champ. There is no way Seth couldn't afford better.  

Dean knocks on the door and Seth opens so fast he must have been right there, waiting. He looks tired and elated at the same time, a bundle of nerves as he steps back to give them room to enter.  

”Wow.” Dean makes a slow circle, looking around in the tiny room. ”So just how much are you missing daddy’s money right about now?” 

Seth doesn’t even bother to flip him off. ”You know it was never about the money.” 

It was about titles, and said titles are hanging right there over the back of the room's only chair, side by side. Together, they make up the only splash of color in the room. They seem ridiculously out of place here, away from the spotlight and the cameras, more like replicas than the real thing. 

"Can I?" Roman nods towards the belts. Seth looks like he wants to refuse, but bites his lip and makes a go ahead-gesture.  

He lifts the US title, weights it in his hands. It's familiar, after all, he shared a room with it for the better part of a year. Dean comes to stand behind him, resting his chin on Roman's shoulder. ”Damn. I forgot how gorgeous she is." 

Roman hums in agreement, dragging his thumb over the curved stripes. It still has the Cena sideplates and he wonders if the Authority will let Seth keep it long enough to get them changed. Knowing them, they're probably holed up somewhere right now plotting a way to strip them off him. Roman throws a glance over his shoulder to see Seth watching them, uncertain. 

”C’mon, let's see 'em on you." 

"Rome, I-" 

"You fought hard tonight and then left before anyone had a chance to congratulate you. C'mon. Show us what a double champ looks like." 

Seth looks like he thinks he’s being mocked, but he steps up quietly to let Roman drape the titles over his shoulders, one after the other, gaze flickering between the two of them. There’s a faint scent of booze on his breath and Roman doesn’t think he’s imagining the tremor in his hands as he adjusts the titles a little, tugging them up a couple of inches. 

Roman steps back to admire the view. "Looks good on you." 

Seth gives a cautious smile, his fingers closing around the leather. He can't hide his pride, the way he stands taller with the titles on his shoulders. On an impulse, Roman takes Seth's face in his hands and kisses him, slow and thorough. Dean moves around to press up against Seth from behind, hands on Roman's hips, effectively trapping Seth between them. Seth lets out a quiet moan, hands sliding up Roman's arms.  

When Roman pulls back Seth is flushed. His eyes flutter closed when Dean nibbles on his earlobe, and there is something mesmerizing about the way he swallows and wets his lips. Roman caresses Seth's cheek with the back of his hand, knuckles dragging against his lower lip, and then reluctantly lets his hand fall. ”I don’t know how to trust you.” 

Seth’s eyes fly open like he just had a bucket of cold water dumped over his head. ”I- what?” 

”I love you,” Roman says. ”I want to forgive you. But every promise you make, I remember other promises you've made and broken. Every time you tell us how you feel, I remember other times you did that and lied.” 

Seth’s face becomes shuttered. "Okay." He twists out of their embrace, turning his back on them to place the titles on rickety table.  

Looking at his turned back, the slump of his shoulders, Roman realizes that this is what Seth meant when he said that he’s done. He’s not going to fight for them. He’s not going to argue or plead. If Roman can’t forgive, this is where it ends, and the thought of walking out of that door without both of his brothers is unbearable. He looks towards Dean, helpless, but Dean just shakes his head. 

”Help me out, Seth," Roman says. "Give me _something_.” 

Seth laughs, brittle and short. ”What, pedigreeing Hunter wasn’t enough for you?” There is a world of hurt in his voice. He turns, hands gripping the edge of the table hard behind him. "I want you. I want Dean's corny jokes and off-key singing and the way he leaves his goddamned shit all over the floor, I want your ridiculous football superstitions and your stupid Candy Crush addiction and your snoring and the way your whole face lights up when you smile. I want my opinion to matter the same as yours. I don’t want to be told that I left you once, so now I don't get a say. I want to wake up next to you in the morning. I want to fight with you. I want-" Seth breaks off, shakes his head. "I _need_ to know you’re not in this just to fuck me or fuck me over. And yeah,” he adds, with a self-depreciating twist of his lips, ”I get how ironic that is." 

Dean takes a step forward, then stops and looks towards Roman with an anguished expression on his face. 

It was never simple, the three of them. Perhaps, if it had been, Seth would have stayed. Or maybe he’d have left earlier, bored with all things predictable and safe. Roman had thought he had his measure back when they were brothers, lovers. He thought he'd had him pegged again after he turned on them. And now, he's certain of nothing, least of all of how to go on if Seth ever betrays them again.

”Promise me,” Roman says, voice rough. "No more lies. No more schemes. You change your mind, you want out, you _tell_ us.” 

Seth’s head snaps up. He blinks at Roman. ”You-” 

”Promise me, Seth. Cross your goddamn heart, and if you lie I swear to god-” 

”I promise.” Seth takes a step forward. ”I’ll show you. But you have to let me. You have to give me something to work with.” 

This time, when Roman steps up and kisses him, Seth returns it with a hungry, desperate fervor. This time, when Dean joins in, Seth turns towards him and burrows against his chest as if trying to hide there. Roman brushes aside his hair and kisses the back of his neck, relishing Seth's shiver.  

"I forgive you.” It's just three words, but like that, everything shifts. Dean’s face lights up with a radiant smile, dimples and all, and it feels like sunlight on his skin after a long, dark night. Seth’s shoulders shake, and Roman kisses him again, kisses his neck, his shoulder, the line of his jaw just below his ear. ”You did great out there, Seth. You were amazing. I'm proud of you." 

The sound Seth makes sounds like pain. Dean gently tips his face up and presses his lips against his forehead. ”Hey. It’s all right. He means it, you know? We both do.” Seth tries to turn away and Dean catches him. ”No, listen. We know you. We know what you did. We forgive you.”

Seth shakes his head. ”I don’t deserve-”

”Well, fuck that,” Dean says, gentle, relentless. ”We don’t always get what we deserve.”

It's two thirty am in New York, and they're all bruised and weary and running on too much adrenaline and too little sleep. Two thirty am, and in a couple of hours they have to head back to their hotel to get back to the arena to get ready for Raw. Two thirty am, and eventually Seth will have to turn on his phone, listen to the messages and find out if he's still got a job, after assaulting their boss in front of 15 000 fans. But that’s later.

Roman hugs Seth close from behind and meets Dean’s eyes over his shoulder. ”Want to see if we can fit all three of us on that bed?”

It turns out they can. After all, they’ve had a lot of practice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, commenting, leaving kudos, bookmarking and subscribing. I would never have finished this without your kindness and your encouragement.


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